red lobster is not hiring right now. economy bad

After a mission, nobody even tells Leon to "report to medical for clearance" anymore. Instead, they just simply say "go see your wife". Which is exactly what Leon is doing, right after walking away from Grace and putting his ring back on.

That same matching platinum band glints under the cool toned medical lighting, as you finish typing up a clearance report for a poor rookie who sustained a deep laceration to their arm, which is finally in the proliferation stage. You already received a text from Sherry two hours ago; that a cure was found and a sample has just been received by forensics, almost ready to be forwarded on to the lab. Your fingers hover over the membrane keyboard, and you let out a deep sigh that you've been holding in.

Ever since those black, almost mold-like marks appeared on Leon's hands and neck, you've been struggling to keep it together. It was one thing to be married to such a prolific DSO agent, but it was another thing for everyone and their damn dog knowing about Leon's infection and checking in on you about it. Of course your coworkers had good intentions, but every time somebody asked how you're doing, you would feel a crack in your porcelain armor widening. Replying with a neutral expression, you always say something along the lines of "well he's not showing any psychological symptoms and his vitals are otherwise in tact, so I'm staying hopeful" whenever somebody checks in on you. It was a perfect reply - objective and rational, and it made you appear level-headed.

But for the last three months, on the inside you were anything but level-headed. When the lights would go out in the medical wing of the DSO HQ, you would quietly lock your office door and sob. You didn't want to let Leon see you like this; you felt as if he had enough on his plate already, he didn't need to see you crumble too. You wordlessly took it upon yourself to be a steady force for him during this time - to be an anchor while he tries to navigate this storm. After several years of marriage, Leon knows you well enough to see right through you, but he didn't confront you about your unwillingness to cry or break down. He knew that a large part of this act was your own form of coping.

Before you can type another sentence, you hear a knock at your office door and one of the receptionists call out "Doctor? Your husband just entered the waiting room." You feel a giddiness - the same giddiness you've felt all these years since you first began dating Leon.

"Oh, yes. I'll bring him in." You call out, locking your work computer and shrugging your medical coat back on as your pumps echo through the hallway of the consultation wing, the soft 'click clack' in the pattern of your gait already making Leon's ears perk up. "Agent Kennedy." You call out to Leon, crossing your arms with a small smile on your face. It's an entirely unprofessional tone - one full of adoration and love.

"Doctor Kennedy." Leon drawls in a low tone with a soft grin, getting up from the upholstered waiting room chair and striding towards you. You can already see it in the way he moves; how his posture is much more upright than it has been in the last three months.

"Jesus christ. Could they at least leave the flirting and eyefucking until they leave the reception area?" The red haired receptionist sighs to the curly-haired receptionist once you and Leon are out of earshot. The curly-haired receptionist quirks a brow at the redhead.

"Ah. You must be new here."

You lock the door quietly as Leon takes a seat on the edge of the examination table, his muscular thighs splayed across as his hands clasp together loosely. Before doing anything else, you walk up to Leon, placing one hand on his jawline as you kiss him deeply. You've missed the feeling of his lips on yours, the way his stubble gently tickles your chin, and the way his tongue always tastes like spearmint gum. Reluctantly pulling away, you lean back a little on the edge of your desk with a loving grin, although it quickly turns into a look of genuine confusion. "Your… Your face." Is all you can manage to say. You and Leon have a difference in age; you didn't think much of it since at the time of your marriage it didn't appear so significant back then, but a little later down the track people began to confuse Leon for an uncle or father. But since coming back from that mission, you both look identical in age.

"Oh, yeah. That Elpis cure actually worked. I feel better than I have in well, at least a decade." Leon chuckles.

"…You can be honest with me babe. If this was all some kind of elaborate scheme to get a facelift and some lip filler, I won't judge you." You joke, but you're still in a bit of disbelief. Although that disbelief quickly wears off - you've seen and heard of stranger things happening in this field.

"Glad to know my wife still has her sense of humour intact. Didn't miss me too much, did you?" Leon asks with a grin as you approach him to close the space between you both. He stretches his big, muscular arms out to encase you in a hug as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

"Haha. No actually, I was enjoying the peace and quiet in the home. I finally got a little vacation from those one-liners." You tease, but you are completely lying. Since Leon went on the mission to Rhodes Hill, you stayed in the DSO HQ for the entire duration, even poking your head into Sherry's office when she had some downtime. And Leon knows it.

"Really? Huh. Could've sworn I heard you mumbling in the background about how you were 'going to kill me if I didn't come back alive' in Sherry's headset at uh…" Leon checks his watch for a moment, "probably 2am today?" Leon teases you back. You groan in faux-annoyance, his keen observation skills being both a blessing and a curse.

"Fine… Yes. Of course I missed you." You admit, your lower lip trembling and tears welling up in your eyes. "I really missed you. I was so scared you weren't going to come back. And you were getting more and more sick by the day but they still insisted on putting you on such a dangerous mission." The dam finally broke as you explain how worried you truly were.

"I know. I could hear you crying in the bathroom before I left for Rhodes Hill. But you were putting on a real brave face for me just so we'd both keep it together, huh?" Leon murmurs as he kisses the side of your temple.

"Don't ever contract a life-threatening virus and worry me like that ever again." You chide him between snivels, but there's no anger in your voice. Just relief. Relief that Leon is finally back and safe.

"I can't make promises, but I'll do my best for you." Leon whispers, the low rumble of his voice soothing you as your tears subside.

Pulling away from his hug as your tears have now dried down to salty damp patches on your cheeks, you properly take his appearance in. You've always found your husband handsome, but seeing him like this… You can't stop staring.

"Something the matter, doc?" Leon tilts his head, aware of your ogling.

"Sorry, I just can't get over how good you look." You let out a short laugh, as his hands find their way to your hips, his thumb tracing little circles over the fabric of your black pencil skirt.

"Could say the same to you." Leon whispers, and you roll your eyes playfully.

"I wish." You retort, aware of your current slightly disheveled and sleep deprived state. Leon's lips brush against your neck. Your hands steady themselves against his thighs, gently but firmly gripping them as your knees wobble a little under the sensation of his touch.

"You don't believe me?" Leon whispers, his fingers playing with the hem of your blouse.

"Hmm. Possibly." Your lower lip catches between your teeth.

"Alright. Let me show my pretty wife how much I've missed her then." Leon gives you a lazy grin, guiding you by the small of your back as you hitch your skirt up a little to straddle him.

"O-one day we're gonna get caught doing this…" You moan softly in his ear, as Leon's hand disappears up your skirt, rubbing your pussy through your already-damp panties.

"Maybe. But they've got much bigger issues to worry about than their best agent fucking their best physician." He replies, the fingertips of his index and middle finger pressing against your clit, causing you to let out a small whimper.

"Insatiable." You breathe out, as Leon pulls your underwear to the side to stroke his fingers against your sopping wet folds.

"I'm the insatiable one? When you're already this wet for me? I'm the one who has to keep up with you, baby." He whispers, before capturing your mouth with his once more. Leon sinks his index and middle fingers inside of you, greedily swallowing the soft moans that escape your mouth as his thumb rubs at your clit.

"F-fuck… Oh god… I've missed you so much…" You whine, as his fingers pick up the pace.

"You did? You really missed me? How about you show me just how much you missed me." Leon's fingers curl upwards, hitting that perfect, sweet spot inside of you, making your breath hitch and your body tense.

"Right there, please, please, don't stop…!" You try to contain your pleads and whines of pleasure, your legs trembling, causing the examination table to shake a little.

"Aww, poor baby. You really needed this. Come on, you can let go now. I've got you." Leon coos in your ear, as you grip onto his shoulders tightly, quietly cumming all over his hand. You slump a little in his arms as you ride out your high, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as Leon licks his fingers clean.

"Leon Scott Kennedy. I swear you are going to be the death of me." You rasp out with a fake glare, but your fingers are already nimbly undoing his belt buckle. The wedding band on your finger gleaming momentarily as it catches the light.

"Hey now… Is that any way for a doctor to talk to her patient?" Leon mocks, the deep timbre of his voice causing you to shudder. You free his cock from his underwear; Leon is impossibly hard, his tip drooling with precum, taking on a reddish hue.

"Luckily my patient is also my husband, so he's not allowed to file any complaints." You chuckle, lowering yourself to your knees. Leon gently grasps your shoulder, shaking his head.

"I just wanna be inside of you right now." Leon says. You get up from your knees, and in one swift motion, Leon swaps spots by lifting you up effortlessly and laying you down on the examination table, while he is now standing between your legs. Your skirt is bunched up to your hips, and your underwear is completely drenched with your cum and pulled to the side.

"Please. I need you..." You plead, staring at Leon with blown-out pupils as his big, calloused hands grip the back of your calves to throw them over his shoulders, before his hands travel back to your hips.

"Anything for you, my love." He doesn't waste another second, his hips slowly pushing forward as you feel him stretch your walls, inch by inch, until he's bottomed out inside of you. Letting out a shaky exhale, your glossy lips quiver as the feeling of being totally filled up by his cock makes you squeeze your eyes shut in pure pleasure, your jaw dropping into a perfect little 'o' shape.

"O-oh fuck, more… Please…"

Leon leans down, deepening the angle and rocking his hips into you at a faster and harder pace. "Yes ma'am."

The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and the squelch of your wetness with every thrust makes your cheeks burn red. You're certain if somebody walked past and paused for a moment, they'd hear such lewd sounds coming from your office, but at this point, you don't care one bit. You've missed your husband so much.

"You fuck me so so good… Oh god baby, I've missed you so much." You coo praise in Leon's ear, and you feel his hips pick up the pace even more. You always know exactly what buttons to push when it comes to him.

"S-shit, you're so fuckin' tight. You're squeezing me like fuckin' crazy. Fuck, such a tight, pretty little pussy." Leon rasps out, and his hips buck into you with a fervor that you're unsure of is even possible from a human standpoint. Every thrust Leon makes kisses that spot inside of your cunt so perfectly that your walls clench around his cock with a vice grip.

"Please, please, cum inside of me, please." You whimper, cheeks flushed and your hair plastered to the sides of your sweaty face.

"Yeah, you want my cum? Take it, princess. Take it. You know I'm all yours… Fuck-" Leon groans in pleasure as he feels your pussy tighten around his cock as you cum, your thighs shaking just as much as the examination table beneath you. Your knuckles turn white as you grip onto the edge of the table, eyelids fluttering shut as you reach that perfect peak. And that's all it takes for Leon's orgasm to follow suit, as he hisses in ecstasy, spilling hot, white ropes of his sticky cum inside of you.

"F-fuck… How much energy did that damn cure give you?" You rasp out, catching your breath as Leon's posture is already straightened out.

"Enough for another round. Or two. Or three." He shrugs with red cheeks and a grin as he helps you hop off the table, giving you a moment to fix yourself up and clean up your office space.

"Alright… Slow down there agent. We need to get home first." You chuckle, locking the office door behind you both as you walk through the reception area. Leon wordlessly extends his arm out to you, and you hand him your work bag as he slings it across his broad shoulder, before reaching out again and grabbing his hand in yours. You have a feeling you may end up in the backseat of his car before you make it home.

Everything was loud.

Despite your feeble endeavour to plunge your apartment into silence, the typically unnoticed sounds that came with a quiet space now echoed loud behind your eyes. The TV had been turned off hours ago; the cables pulled right out of the walls when you swore you could hear the electricity. Every little thud or hum from the outside world only drove you closer to insanity, the clock on the wall ticking like a metronome to your further fraying patience.

You only wished that your brain had a cable to be sawn, that any thoughts of your husband’s potential death could be prevented from forming in your mind at all. You longed greatly for that sweet mercy, to be capable of telling yourself that he will be home, that the reasons for his absence are merely the traffic, or Claire holding him back to chat ardently about her kids or the lottery numbers. Yet every time you close your eyes, that nauseating sense of horror pools deep in your gut as scenes of Leon’s possible eulogy flash relentlessly through your psyche.

When the doorhandle finally does rattle, you are on your feet within seconds.

The blonde hair. The navy t-shirt. The combined scents of sweat, gunpowder and the most recognisable, the metallic odour of blood left to dry on skin. None of it even has the chance to register before chest hits chest, your arms flinging tight around Leon’s neck, one hand sliding into his unwashed hair.

“You tryna crack a rib there?” Leon’s voice is slightly hoarse, most likely from barking out orders for days on end. Or maybe relief, with the way his shoulders slump and his lips brush reverently over your temple as he holds you back just as firmly.

“You’re lucky it isn’t your damn neck for making me wait so long.” Your response is an attempt at humour, but the sounds that are pulled from your throat are shaky, broken. Raw and relieved, all at the same time.

His arms tighten where they fit around your waist, another feather-light kiss pressed to your hairline. He doesn’t say anything else, but his kiss translates everything he’s trying to say.

I’m sorry.

I’m here now.

I’ve got you.

“I gotta shower this stink off. You joinin’?” He mumbles.

You give a small nod against his chest, letting him guide you through the dimly-lit hallway of your home, towards the bathroom. Leon pulls his own shirt off first, letting the fabric hit the tile floors with an almost silent thud, before making work of yours too. The soft cotton of your pyjama shirt is like heaven against Leon’s fingertips after so long away. Everything seems to move too slow and too fast all at once, your mind only catching up when the warm water sprays against your bare chest, with Leon’s lips gentle on your shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to make you wait up. Things got intense when I got back.”

You nod, yet again.

“I’m just glad you’re home, Leon.”

Leon’s rough hands, yet the same hands always so gentle with you, rotate you by your hips to face him. He leans in, one kiss to your nose, one planted on your forehead, before he moves down to your mouth. He frames your jaw in his large palms, tilting your head back to deepen the connection. Gently gripping his wrists, you kiss him back just as passionately, steam curling around your heads in misty, grey loops. Leon pulls away first, and presses his forehead to yours, damp hair sticking to your skin.

“I love you, so goddamn much.”

“I love you too, Leon.”

With him here, the background noise now seems to evaporate along with the water stream, your conscience finally calming as he lathers shampoo in your hair. You stand tip-toed to return the favour, washing away the thick iron odour of the blood on Leon’s skin with soapy suds scented with lavender. You can’t help letting your eyes wander over the new cuts and scrapes across his body. Bruises and cuts, all just a few days old and in the first stages of the skin healing process, making Leon’s body look even more like a patchwork of scars.

You both rinse off, staying under the water longer than necessary, just watching each other, like you both can’t believe the other is really here. Eventually, you step out, toes against cool floors contrasting with Leon’s thick biceps wrapping one of the fluffy white towels around you, wrapping it at the top so it didn’t fall, then doing the same for himself, tying one at his waist. Your hand slides, the perfect fit, into Leon’s, as the two of you head into the bedroom. The closet opens with a soft clank, and your eyes track the muscles of his back as he pulls out two of his t shirts, a clean pair of navy blue boxers, and some fresh underwear for you. He dresses you first, then himself, notes of lavender shower gel and peony-scented detergent mixing in the air around you both.

You climb into bed, balancing on your knees to yank the covers back and fluffing the pillows. Your hand reaches out to welcome Leon in too, and he need not to be told twice, slipping beneath the sheets and curling around your back like a woodlouse and slides a leg between both of yours. His breathing is slow and hot against your nape, as you finally let everything sink in. Leon allows one hand to rest over your stomach, rubbing small circles into the flesh.

“Been sleepin’ like shit without you snoring beside me.”

You huff out a fond snort of laughter, resting your hand on his bicep.

“You usually complain about my snoring.”

“Cause its loud as fuck. You sound like a damn chainsaw.”

He lets out a breath, pausing for a moment.

“Still, I miss it when its gone.”

You smile at that. The first in days.

“Well, you’re back home now, maybe you’ll regret it when I start snoring tonight.”

Leon shakes his head. His nose brushes your nape.

by the time you reached his apartment, the excitement of the day settled into something softer, more domestic. his place was dim except for the warm glow of a lamp in the corner.

“I’d say today was a success,” leon sighed, stretching an arm along the back of the couch behind you. “I avoided ruining your birthday.”

“barely,” you giggled.

“oh? barely?”

“you only worried about every little thing all day.”

his cheeks flushed a soft pink. “can you blame me, though?”

you leaned against his shoulder. leon glanced down at you with that shy smile he always wore when he thought you weren’t looking. “thanks for spending today with me.”

“as if there was anywhere else I’d rather be.”

his expression softened as he reached up to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering against your cheek for a second longer than they needed to.

then, his lips met yours with the same gentle certainty he’d carried through the entire day. it was soft, careful, and unhurried, like he wanted to memorize every second. one kiss became another, each one lingering just a little longer than the last.

but then, leon pulled away. his breath hitched and his palms grew slightly damp when he saw the intense desire reflecting in your eyes. 

“I-I think I’m ready,” he whispered, a warm flush creeping up his cheeks. “I want to do it, I want my first to be with you.”

your eyes widened at his words. your relationship with leon had moved at a much slower, more deliberate pace than your past ones, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“are you sure? we don’t have to do anything if you’re not completely ready,” you said softly, brushing his hair out of his face. “I don’t want you to feel pressured just because it’s my birthday…”

“n-no, I’m sure,” he said firmly, his hand gripping your thigh firmly. “I love you…and I can’t see myself doing this with anyone else.”

your heart melted at his confession. you couldn’t help but kiss him again. “I love you so much,” you murmured against his lips. “and I’m not just saying that because you want to give me your virginity.”

leon chuckled, his hands resting on your hips as you moved to straddle his lap. his breath hitched when your fingers danced beneath his shirt, slowly stripping it from him. “just tell me if I make you uncomfortable, okay? want you to feel good, too,” you said softly.

he nodded quickly, like an eager puppy waiting for a treat. his eyes went wide and followed your every move as you slowly slipped your shirt off as well. 

“woah…” he breathed out.

you couldn’t help but giggle, your hands coming up to cover your chest. “what?”

“you’re gorgeous.”

he practically lunged for you, his lips making contact with your neck. his hands came up to gentle pry your hands away so he could see you properly. you sighed softly, melting into his touch. 

“you’re too sweet,” you whisper, fingers tangling in his hair as he sucked love bites into your skin.

leon’s fingers tried to unclasp your bra but failed miserably. he looked up at you with sad, dejected eyes. “I’ve never done this before,” he mumbled, his cheeks turning pink.

you reached back, easily undoing the hook and tossing it to the side. “I know, baby, I know,” you cooed. your hands reached for his, guiding them to your breasts. his hands were clammy, shaky, but eager nonetheless. you moaned softly as he fondled you gently.

“holy shit,” he whispered, letting out a chuckle. “I’m so hard right now.”

you pressed against the raging boner beneath you, letting him feel your throbbing heat. “yeah?”

leon sucked in a breath, his head tipping back against the couch. he let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a whine and a moan. “baby, please,” he begged.

obliging, your hands reached for his belt. in a flash, his pants were discarded and yours were left somewhere across the room.

“do you wanna use a condom?” you asked, your fingers slowly stroking his length. he was already leaking and throbbing, looking as though he might explode any second. 

“what do you want to do?” he breathed out, his eyelids drooping heavily. “wanna make…ngh~ you feel good…whatever you think is best…”

you cocked a brow, a soft smile touching your lips as you slowly slid him between your folds. “you sure?” you whispered.

leon’s fingers dug into your hips, his eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of your wetness drenching him. “y-yeah, I’m sure, baby.”

he let out a moan the moment you bottomed out. your body collapsed forward over his, completely overwhelmed by the intense sensation of him hitting all your most sensitive spots. your nails dug into his shoulders, desperately trying to stabilize yourself against the rush of pleasure.

suddenly, a sharp gasp caught in your throat as you felt his lips on your nipples. looking down, you saw leon eagerly sucking on them, his features contorted in pure bliss as his tongue lapped over the sensitive peaks. your core clenched tightly around him at the sight, drawing a sharp, breathless wince from deep within his chest.

“baby…’m not gonna last long,” he whimpered, his voice cracking as his eyes grew watery, staring up at you with utter devotion.

“it’s okay, just let it feel good,” you murmured, leaning down to press a soft, reassuring kiss to his forehead.

leon whined, a desperate, broken sound as his teeth scraped against your nipple. his hips jutted up beneath you, completely starved for the sensation, greedy for more of the agonizing friction. “I-I can’t-” he stuttered, his entire body suddenly going rigid beneath yours.

his fingers locked onto your waist with a bruising grip as he thrusted up one more time. you could feel the intense, rhythmic pulse of his release slowly filling you up, a deep warmth that overflowed until it was slowly leaking down your thighs. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, chest heaving heavily.

“w-wait, you didn’t…” leon breathed out, his voice incredibly small and raspy. his lower lip gave a tiny, subconscious twitch as he realized he finished without you.

“just breathe, baby. don’t worry about me,” you chuckled softly. you leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to the tip of his nose, your fingers smoothing the fringe clinging to his forehead.

leon whined, a sweet, embarrassed sound as he hid his face in the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you down flush against his chest.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he mumbled against your skin. “I promise. just,...give me a second…”

you couldn't help but smile, combing your fingers through his soft hair as he held you close, content to just melt into his warmth. 

masterlist

© lilacgrayskies on tumblr

he's left to his imagination when the night is too dark and lonely, and his bed is too empty

it starts off chaste enough by palming the growing erection that strains the weave of his sweatpants, and he owes himself that at least

you're the first person who has been able to rouse his dick from the dead after a few years of a sever in his body-mind connection, whether it came from old age or the decades of being thrown against walls like an al dente noodle

yet he still mumbles and incoherent strain of deprecating admonishments as shoves his pants down his thighs and takes his rock-hard dick in his palm

it's you he pictures stroking his length with the soft hand that always come up to touch his bicep whenever the two of you are conversing

your entire being is so tangible in his mind that he can quite literally smell the sweet scent of your perfume in his nostrils as he inhales a sharp breath

he prays that the walls are thick enough to drown out the sound of your name, violently loud on his tongue, as he approaches his peak

Summer:

"Shit!" You hissed as your hand touches on the searing hot steering wheel of your car. Smack dab in the summer heat, your tired car AC does little to wick away the thin layer of sweat that has formed on your skin, and it's not even midday yet. God, you need to get this fixed ASAP the moment you get settled. What an awful start to a new chapter of your life.

Your mind raced with all the 'would-haves' and 'maybes' as you continued to drive to your new home - a craftsman bungalow style house. It's nothing flash, but it's yours, and you have plenty of leftover money to spare to do it up the way you'd like after that huge severance pay. Ugh - just the thought of that payout made you sick. Only two months ago were you were a well-respected a senior manager, poised to take on a director role. Then suddenly at the final moment, it was handed to your far less competent male colleague who just happened to go golfing with the CEO every other Sunday. After that, things rapidly tumbled downhill, with the topmost management deciding a restructure was what was needed to save costs, and suddenly, you were called in for a meeting at 4:59pm to discuss your future (or rather, lack thereof) in the company.

It's humiliating - running away with your tail between your legs when you're still considered to have plenty of years left to continue climbing the career ladder, but for many years prior, you were praying to any god that was listening to give you a sign to finally quit your job and move out of the big city to follow your dreams. And so here you are, planting new roots in a suburb near a much smaller city. It's the far superior alternative to moving back to your hometown, especially considering you'll be seen as the one who fell from grace after choosing to prioritize your career, while everybody else you grew up with is now dropping their kids off to soccer practice or attending choir recitals.

Your car began to make a pathetic, churning noise as it struggled to drag itself to the base of a hill, before it came to a complete halt, despite your foot on the gas and your keys still in the ignition. "Fuck! You've got to be fucking kidding me!" You groaned. You're not all that far from your new home - maybe fifteen minutes tops, but it's blisteringly hot outside, so walking there is not an option. You held in your frustration and tears as you pulled over, stepping out of your car and pulling your already hot phone out. The sun was beating down on your phone screen, the glass reflecting into your eyes and causing you to wince as you fumble with the roadside assistance number.

"…Unfortunately since it is a weekend and there are many people ahead of you in the queue, we are estimating your wait will be around 3 hours." The woman's voice said into the line. You held back a groan of frustration as you thank her before hanging up. You felt the fabric of your fitted cotton shirt now stick to your lower back like a second skin, the sweat on your brow now plastering thick clumps of your hair against your forehead. You raised a forearm up to the sky, a poor attempt at shielding your eyes from the harsh sun rays as you popped open the hood. You have no clue what you're meant to be looking at, it looks all the same to you. Lower lip trembling, you leaned on the front of your car, ignoring the lava-like sensation against the front of your thighs as you let a stray tear slip down your cheek. Before another tear escaped, you heard a car slow down to a stop beside you. A black Porsche Cayenne GT. Fancy.

"…Hey. You alright?" A man's voice called out to you. Propping yourself up from the hood of your car, you turned to the source of the voice. A blonde man, perhaps in his late 40's, was staring at you with pale blue eyes. Clearing your throat and blinking away the stray tears from your vision, you shook your head.

"No. But I will be. Just a shit day. My car decided to break down on me when I'm only 15 minutes away from my new home. My roadside insurance said I'll have to wait in this heat for about 3 hours, but that's three lost hours I could spend moving in." You sighed, shoving your hands into the pockets of your denim shorts.

"You have some rotten luck…" The blonde man empathized. "Listen, you don't have to take the offer, but you can leave the car for towing and I can take you to your new home - you live in the nearby neighbourhood, right? It's where I live too." The man asked, and you nodded. Under normal circumstances, you would never accept a ride from a stranger, especially not an older man, but you'd take being driven by a handsome older man in a black Porsche over sitting in the sweltering heat for up to 3 hours without water. Or perhaps you just had the survival instincts of a wet paper bag.

…

The man gave you his name - Leon. The cold blast of his car's air conditioning instantly evaporates your sweat, providing you instant relief. As you trade names, you can't help but feel a dull throb between your thighs at the way your name rolls off his tongue, your eyes covertly landing on his muscular forearms, gaze trailing up a vein from his forearm to his bicep, which is then hidden by his tight navy shirt. He's in impeccable shape for somebody who seems to be close to beekeeping age. Jesus, you need to snap out of it and get laid.

You noticed how Leon's broad shoulders momentarily relax as he lets out a short chuckle, the deep timbre of his voice made your clench your thighs together just a fraction more. You learnt that you are neighbours opposite each other - that your house is directly facing his.

Leon pulls into your street, you notice the stark contrast of your little craftsman bungalow, dwarfed by the clean modern lines of Leon's large home across the street. You become acutely aware that you've bought the smallest home on the street, maybe even this part of the suburb, because everybody here seems to drive impressive cars and have equally as impressive sized houses. You try to remind yourself that your place probably has more charm, and everyone on this street, including your neighbour Leon, likely has their big house to hold their big family, while you're just a woman in her early 30's who doesn't even have a cat. Not yet, anyway.

"I saw the under offer sign last month - it's a nice house, it's got a lot of character to it. I was worried it might be some asshole investor who wants to knock the whole place down and subdivide or something." Leon commented. Yes, 'character' is a perfect way of putting it, thank you Leon.

"Oh, no, just me in here… I needed a fresh start in a new place. This was the best I could afford, it's just such a nice neighbourhood." You replied, chuckling awkwardly as you reluctantly unbuckled your seatbelt, mentally bidding goodbye to the ice cold air blasting from his car. You're so stuck in your own world that you didn't even notice Leon's eyes darting to your thighs for a split second, before he opened his side of the car.

Hopping out of Leon's car, you noticed that your moving-in boxes had already been delivered. Every single beige cardboard box was meticulously taped and labeled by you, with layers of neatly folded newspaper padding the contents inside. Looks like the movers just dumped your boxes because you weren't there to let them in. How ridiculous - you were no more than half an hour late, but with nobody to let them in, the movers simply cancelled the other half of their job and have left you to bring in and unpack your boxes instead of ringing you to check in. Assholes.

"That's a lot of stuff you got there." Leon remarks, and you sigh, poking the nearest box with the toe of your sneaker.

"Yeah. I guess I got here a bit too late. The movers cancelled the other half of helping me move stuff in. Welp, I've got my work cut out for me." You barked a short, fed up chuckle. "Thank you for helping me, Leon. I think I've got it from here." You added with a small smile.

"It's no problem - but it is pretty damn hot and humid, are you sure you can manage all these boxes on your own?"

"I'm sure I can do it. I moved in and out of my last place alone. This time won't be much different." You shrugged, fishing for your house keys in your pocket before bending at the knees and gripping onto the edges of a cardboard box labeled 'bowls and plates'. You felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over you as Leon is staring at your teetering form, possibly a hair away from dropping that heavy box onto your wooden porch.

He found himself stepping in before his mind could even think, his large, calloused hands catching the heavy cardboard box beneath you just as it was about to slip out of your grasp. Leon was always like this; stepping in to help another person in need, as if it were his factory settings. He noticed your plush lips part into a pretty little 'O' shape as you let out a gasp. He'd be lying to himself if he said acting the hero for his pretty (and considerably younger) neighbour didn't have some kind of effect on him though.

"I'm sure you can. But it'll be much quicker and safer with an extra set of hands." Leon said , his biceps tensing as you held the door open for him. "Ah, no wonder this was heavy." Leon added, his eyes roaming over the label. He noted you're an organised and meticulous person, similar to him.

Towards the end of the day, when the blue haze draped over the orange glow of the sky, you offered Leon a refreshment as a token of thanks for helping you move in, but he declined and told you that helping others is payment enough. He seems to be a rather chivalrous older man - 'his wife is lucky' you couldn't help but think to yourself.

You found yourself sitting alone at your kitchen island, legs dangling from your kitchen stool as you dug your fork into a hastily-made bowl of pasta. Not even your TV was properly set up, and so you were listening to the noise of your own thoughts instead. Those thoughts continued to rotate between existential dread, and your attractive older neighbour across the street. The numerous scars across his forearms and biceps didn't go unmissed, with some scars looking like slashes across his pale skin, with others looking like pits that only a bullet could make. It made you wonder just how dangerous his job is. You shoved the thought aside, pivoting your thoughts on tomorrow's agenda.

For the following three weeks, you didn't see or hear much from Leon since the day he helped you move in. Part of you wondered if Leon was just a hallucination from heat stroke, but that myth was dispelled when you watched him through your kitchen blinds, walking towards his mailbox in his grey sweatpants and a white shirt. It reminded you that you found a bill addressed to him was incorrectly slipped in your mailbox - and so on an already sweltering morning, you shoved your feet in your slippers, waving to him as you walk across the street, with a white envelope in your hand addressed to him.

Leon tried his best to avert his gaze from the way your grey pajama shirt was made of such thin cotton that he could see the obvious outline of your chest. He was worried he would begin to look like an alien that snuck onto earth and learnt about eye contact for the first time, but you seemed oblivious to his straining efforts. Leon's eyes fell to the envelope - a thankful reprieve from the sight of the woman in front of him. Feeling heat rush to his lower half, he mutters another sentence of gratitude before you can spot the tent he's pitched in his sweatpants. He felt a sense of disgust within himself as he walks back to his front door - sickened by the crashing tide of lust that caught him off balance over his younger, very oblivious neighbour.

He should leave her alone. He really should.

…

You should just leave him alone. You really should.

You're sure there are plenty of nice people who are closer to your age and would be perfectly fine to get to know, but you found yourself gravitating towards the blonde older man across the road with the intense but tender pale blue gaze. Every time you opened your dating app, you found yourself unsuccessful in your endeavors. You don't want to say the quiet part out loud - that you're looking for Leon in every man you could possibly connect with, and none of them seem to hold a candle to the older man across the street.

Autumn:

"…Are you wearing orthopedic shoes, Leon?" You can't help but blurt out the question. Leon momentarily turns his head away from the task of repairing your leaking kitchen sink, giving you a sideways glance.

"They're hiking shoes. Jesus, I'm not that old, yet. This the thanks I get for giving my neighbour a free sink repair?" Leon asked with an amused tone, ignoring the dull ache in his knees as he knelt under your sink.

A part of you couldn't help but think about how he'd look kneeling for you, with his head between your thighs. You felt like a sick, perverted freak, yet you couldn't stop your mind from wandering there. "Sorry, sorry, you could probably run many more miles than me without getting huffed. I'll behave myself." You apologised with a small grin.

"Good girl. That's what I like to hear." Leon replied casually - you couldn't see his facial expression, and you're glad he also couldn't see yours in that moment.

After helping you with your sink, Leon was less averse to tokens of appreciation compared to the last time he helped you. You shared some donuts - just something simple and sweet that would wash down well with a coffee. The both of you exchanged information about your jobs, you divulged your biggest failure - climbing the career ladder so high only to be kicked off when you were about to reach the top. In turn, Leon mentioned his position as a DSO agent. The term 'DSO' rung a bell - you remember a global-scale catastrophic incident that occurred in 2013, when you were about to start your freshman year in college. When you mentioned that detail to Leon, he visibly grimaced, telling you to stop reminding him that he's an old man now.

"What about you and your family? Have you got any kids you've had to wave off to college recently?" You asked - it was an innocent question enough about family, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't fishing for information on his marital status.

"Hm? Ah, I've uh, never settled down." Leon admitted in response. He took a bite of the donut you gave him; something you bought earlier this morning from the nearby bakery while the catastrophe in your kitchen sink was unfolding, unbeknownst to you. Your eyes lingered where he bit into the donut, teeth marks indented to create a perfect crescent. A depraved thought of what that those indents would look against your own skin passes through your mind. You raise your mug to your mouth to take a sip of hot black coffee, concealing the ghost of a grin that danced across your lips.

"Really? Never? You're joking, right? But you're so nice." And handsome. But you wouldn't admit that last part to him, you know better than to flirt with your visibly older neighbour.

"Being nice doesn't offset the baggage that my work brings. I can disappear for up to a month, and get called in at any moment's notice. Not to mention the danger aspect. My work consumes most of my time." Leon shrugged.

"But is it something you wanted?" You couldn't help but pry a little further.

"It is." Leon said with a solemn nod. He wanted all of it - to pick the kids up from school, to stand up and clap like a madman watching his child shoot a goal at their first basketball game, to be that one fuckass annoying parent holding their phone up into the crowd recording their kid's first school play, covering everyone else's view. Not only that, but Leon wanted someone to come home to, and to be someone's home as well. After grueling missions that can last up to weeks on end, Leon just wished that he could walk through the front door and somebody would smile at him, hug him, and bring him back to a sense of normalcy. He pictured himself being an anchor for a partner, a patient, gentle, and protective force that somebody can rely on. Leon Kennedy wanted it all, but he never allowed himself to have it. After all, his life isn't so simple that he could just choose to settle down when he felt like it. Not when the weight of the world would constantly crush his shoulders, the pressure grinding against him so often that even he's surprised he's not reduced to only sinew and bone yet.

You're far removed from the life of a DSO agent, so you remained optimistic in your response. "I see… Well, I don't think it's too late if that's something you still want." You told him. Leon gave you an appreciative look in return, but you knew your words didn't change his viewpoint. Despite it all, you looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror that night, wondering what Leon would look like standing next to you.

…

You thought the humiliation rituals ended when you moved out of the big city. And it's been nice - you've set up a good life for yourself here as a writer, sustaining on payments that let you work at your own pace, no negotiation for pay rises or promotions required. But it was going on a date so shitty that you vowed to never go on another date again, that was what made you feel small once again. And you hated it.

You stumbled to your front porch in your heels, mascara running down your cheeks as you kept your arms folded in an effort to protect yourself from the biting air from the night. As your security lights shone brightly on your porch and out onto the street, your defeated figure could be spotted from Leon's living room window, fumbling in your purse.

"God fucking dammit!" You sniveled, a total drunken mess. You kicked your doormat up, only to find no spare key; although you knew you placed one somewhere around here! You lifted up the potted plants, checked under the rock near the stairs, but nothing. All you could do was sit in your tight black dress and pretty heels, and sob.

Your sobbing was cut short as you notice a familiar figure walking across the road. Leon. "Hi." You forced your greeting out to sound as normal as possible, as Leon crouched down opposite you.

"Hey. Sorry for being nosy, but your security lights are pretty bright and I noticed you've been sitting out here for almost half an hour in the cold. Figured I'd check in on you." Leon spoke in a very tender and low voice. You peered at him through tear-stained lashes, giving him a small shake of the head in response.

"I'll be okay. Just need to find my house keys." You almost choked on your sentence from the dryness of your throat.

"Why don't I help you look for them? And you can put this on in the meantime." Leon handed a brown leather aviator jacket to you. The moment you shrugged it on, you noticed how it dwarfed you in size, but also how soft and warm the shearling lining was, much like a hug. You were still in too much of a drunken haze to notice the flicker of a smile across Leon's lips at the sight of you in one of his old jackets. "Found it." Leon announced after only five minutes of searching. "You placed it on on top your switchboard." Leon added, knocking his knuckles twice against the hollow metal box with a dull thud.

"T-Thank you, Leon." You stammered, gratefully taking the key from his hand as you tried to slide your key into the door, but you were so fucking tired and your mind was as dull as a butter knife that you couldn't properly align your key into the lock. "Fuck." You whispered, still aware enough that Leon was watching you fuck up something as simple as getting into your own damn home.

"Here." His voice was barely above a whisper. You dropped your house key into his palm and he unlocked your door in a matter of seconds. Collapsing onto your couch, you looked up at the ceiling that was still slightly spinning. Leon knew now was the perfectly appropriate time to head back into his own home, but he was telling himself that he only wanted to make sure you were safe and you had everything you needed before he left you alone. He was just being a nice, caring neighbour. "Was the date that bad?" Leon asked, walking towards you with a glass of water.

"Abysmal. I'm never going on another fucking date ever again." You grumbled, taking a healthy gulp of the water. A thin trickle of water dribbled from the corner of your mouth, down your chin and neck, until it disappeared at the neckline of your dress. Leon shifted in his place, his shoes suddenly feeling like the soles had turned to glue.

"What happened?" Leon couldn't help but prod at the matter, keeping himself perched on the arm of your beige loveseat couch.

"Men these days are just complete and utter fucking weirdos. They want a woman who will work - but she can't be more successful than him, and they want her to be beautiful, but she has to be insecure, otherwise she's a stuck-up slut. Oh- and don't get me started on this bullshit about women being past thirty and being 'used and now expired goods'. He said it like he was a saint for even giving me a chance, yet he's balding and living with his parents! My god… It's no longer a dating pool, it's a festering swamp." You rambled, before staring up at him with mascara-ridden doe eyes. "Sorry. Got too worked up." You added before taking another big gulp, unaware of his eyes settling on the curve of your bare neck.

"No, I don't mind. So what, you're just gonna throw the towel in, kid?" Leon asked you. The nickname 'kid' weirdly felt like a punch in the gut to you.

"Yes." You huffed in defiance, crossing your arms once more.

"Hey, that's not a winner's attitude. I'm sure the next date won't be so bad."

"The last four dates have been like this. I've lost hope." You sighed, turning towards him. "I don't know why men aren't nice. Like you." You added with a pout, your glossy lips catching the light. Your statement took Leon aback; he didn't expect a compliment from his significantly younger and pretty neighbour. He felt his weight shift underneath him as he watched you stretch a little. His mind wandered off to thoughts of how smooth your skin looks, how he could see every curve of your body underneath that dress, how beautiful you looked even when your makeup was ruined; hell, he might even like it more seeing your makeup ruined like that.

"Just trying to do the right thing is all." Leon replied, averting his gaze.

Winter:

You've spent enough time with your neighbour across the road by now to know that he doesn't have a true family - how both of his parents were tied up in crime and killed, leaving Leon with little to survive on as he stepped into adulthood. He also mentioned one woman - Sherry, someone he rescued when he was a rookie cop, surviving a bioterrorism incident in 1998. He also mentioned a woman named Claire, and her brother, Chris, how he keeps in contact with them, but they all have lives of their own, so meeting up every Christmas isn't very realistic for their schedules.

And so you found yourself at home on Christmas Eve, pacing back and forth by your ticking oven, the smell of roast turkey and buttery crisp potatoes wafting in the air. You glanced over at his home - the lights are on and the car is in the driveway. Should you invite him over? Would you come off weird? Maybe you should leave him a portion in a container on his doorstep. That would be best. Definitely the most appropriate approach. Loading up a large container full of food, you asked yourself why on earth you cared so much and why you found yourself looking out the damn window so much when his car would go missing, feeling like you're balancing on a razor's edge until you see it back in his driveway after a week or two.

Yet you knocked on his door after you left a container full of freshly cooked turkey roast, with a fluorescent yellow sticky note with 'Merry Christmas Leon :)' in your precise handwriting. Before you even made it down the street, you heard him call your name. "You gonna leave me something this nice without even saying hello?" He asked you, a warmth in the timbre of his voice. The tip of your nose and cheeks were flushed - although you weren't sure if it was from the cold, or Leon's presence.

Shortly after, you found yourself sitting in his kitchen. You ended up bringing the entire tray of turkey and potatoes sitting in his oven, whilst he cut up some oranges for the mulled wine. You realised you made a lot of assumptions about Leon - one being that the outside of his house was a reflection of what was within; only cold, clean edges and minimalism. But you learnt that Leon doesn't keep a garden because he's worried that it's too much work when he goes for long work trips, and he renovated his entire home just for efficiency. Everything he did was out of convenience so that coming back from his grueling work trips would be easier. You realised that his line of work was less of a calling and more of a command, but his work was a cruel mistress; Leon had no choice but to come at every beck and call, like a trained hound. You recall Leon was talking about some kind of upcoming weather phenomenon, but you were much too distracted with the way he plucked a stray orange wedge that almost rolled off the counter, watching the pale orange droplet run from the corner of his mouth down his hand, trailing down his forearm.

The sun settles far too quick in the winter, but despite the bitter cold outside, it felt warm and bright inside Leon's home, as you were nursing your hot mug of mulled wine. You were sitting on opposite ends of his couch, laughing about how Mrs. Rodriguez was watering her snowy lawn just to watch the Millward couple's shouting match on their front porch two doors down. You were unsure how the topic came up, but Leon casually dropped how he saved the president's daughter in 2004. Wide-eyed, you told him you don't believe him, that he was pulling your leg. And so Leon brought out a small old shoebox, containing various medals, certificates, and photos.

You pluck a glossy printed photo - you instantly recognise Leon, although you can tell he withstood far less cuts, bruises, punctures, and beatings in this image. He had that stern gaze, intense yet gentle, his brows knitted in a furrow even at twenty-seven. And he was in that same brown leather jacket he lent you that one time. Holding up the image to the Leon in front of you now, you smiled as your gaze flickered between him and the photograph.

You carded through the box once more until you found a more delicate photograph - it was a headshot of Leon; he explained that it was the photo he was made to take before he started his first day on the job as a rookie cop. His eyes were wide-eyed, almost puppy-like and full of optimism. His brows were bushier and didn't have a furrow to them. His face wasn't hollowed out and sharp; the Leon in 1998 was a glimpse into what he could've been if not for the Raccoon City incident, and for some reason, you couldn't help but inwardly mourn for the man he would've been if his life wasn't tipped upside down by trauma. But even if he's not so soft-looking on the outside, you've felt that same softness and kindness from within him since day one. "…You don't look all that different, to be honest." You place the photo back down into the box.

"I find that hard to believe." Leon chuckled, as your delicate fingers continued to card through the contents of the shoebox. Leon had no real clue why he was showing his much younger neighbour the accomplishments he made in his youth, or why she was even sitting across from him and entertaining conversation with him. He felt selfish in the way he relished the close proximity between you both on the couch, and how the warmth of your body near his made his nerves buzz like a live wire.

"No, really. You're too hard on yourself, you're still very handsome." Your words seemed to tumble out of your mouth before you could think - a sign of one too many mulled wines. But you didn't feel like taking it back.

Leon's eyes widened, lips momentarily parting before sealing into a thin line. It's what he wanted to hear - he wanted to know if he thought his younger neighbour felt the mutual attraction, but upon this confirmation, Leon felt like someone had tipped a bucket of ice cold water down the back of his shirt. He felt like he was being perverse, some sick creep pining after his neighbour who is just a little over half his age. She'd have so much of her life ahead of her, and involving himself would only saddle her with government-issued emotional baggage and a shorter lifespan. No… You deserve somebody who could give you the world and more. "…Just flattering me so you can get another free sink repair, huh kid?" Leon chuckled, downplaying the compliment. He could tell the nickname 'kid' affected you, but that's what he wanted. Distance. To highlight the gap between you both, even though you wanted to close it.

Spring:

You mentioned to him that you wanted to try planting some flowers in your front yard - Leon didn't think you were actually committed to it. He watched through his living room blinds as your knees sunk into where the dirt and grass met, meticulously planning out where each seedling would go, except you were struggling with, well, everything. Leon sighed. Even though he tried his best to wrangle with the mental yellow tape he was constantly putting up, he still found himself pulling his boots on to walk across the street.

"I thought you were all talk about doing up your garden." Leon teased, folding his arms. You noticed his biceps contract through his tight quarter-sleeve shirt, but you turn your attention back to the shovel and spade in front of you.

"What? Didn't think I'd stick to my word?" You scoffed a laugh, as you plotted the next spot for the seedlings with your spade.

"Nah, I'm just nosy. How's it going, Miss Green Thumb?" He asked. Before you could answer, you felt your spade hit something very hard. Like a metal pipe. Water spurts and gushes out everywhere, soaking your clothes in a matter of seconds, as the water propels stray clumps of dirt that flings itself onto you like a magnet.

"FUCK!" You shrieked, hair already fully saturated and clinging to the sides of your face as you managed to back away from the calamity unraveling in your front garden. For a moment, you felt a sense of dread at what just happened, before you started doubling over in laughter. Leon's shoulders relaxed as he watched the stress evaporate from you. "This morning I was asking whoever is up there listening to give me a sign to not garden." You chuckled, turning to Leon. You were oblivious to the fact that you chose to wear a white shirt and a black bra today, and he felt like an utter bastard for having such debased thoughts about you when you were smiling and laughing with such naivete. Leon's eyes traced down your shoulder to the globules of water that were sliding down the skin of your arm.

"Well, there's the sign." He shook his head while he let out a slight chuckle. "How about you take your clothes and shower the mud off at mine? I'll have to cut your water off while I repair this pipe." Leon suggested - you know it's either standing in muddy clothes for about an hour or getting clean; and you know which one you'd rather pick. You retrieved your clothes and walked across the street, stepping into his guest room en suite. You're not sure when you both became so comfortable stepping into each others' homes without so much as a raised fist to knock, but it's not something that bothered you at all. You liked it - actually, you liked it a lot. The humid steam of the shower quickly filled the cubicle as you lathered the body wash between your hands - it was pleasant, the scent of grapefruit rind and bergamont, but it didn't smell like Leon. You've leaned in close to him enough times to know that his body wash is heavy on sandalwood and ambroxan; he smelled so clean it was almost astringent, as if he's scrubbed his skin raw with a bar of soap, trying to scrape away an invisible layer of grime that only he could see.

Your eyes scanned the towel rack as the plush cotton towel soaks up the stray droplets from your shower - shit, you must've dropped your spare pair of shorts on the way to the bathroom. You took the gamble, that Leon wouldn't be in his house since he would be so focused on fixing your burst water pipe. The dice didn't roll in your favour (or maybe it did), as you freeze like a deer in headlights. Unable to move or say anything as Leon's gaze is locked onto your face, every neuron was firing in his brain to tell him not to look any further than the neck below, but he already saw a glimpse as he was going back in to retrieve an emery cloth from his other toolbox, the cloth now contorted under his white-knuckled fist.

"Shit! I'm so sorry, I accidentally dropped my shorts in the way in." You were the first one to break the silence, scrambling back into your denim shorts. But Leon already saw the black lace and the contour of your upper thighs; he already saw far too much. He angled his body a little further away as he muttered an apology of his own, something about him he assuming you were going to shower in the guest room upstairs, and that he was only walking in to grab a tool he needed urgently.

Your eyes fixed on the way his adam's apple bobbed up and down, as you smooth it over with an "it's okay, I'm not bothered", but deep down, you were bothered. You were bothered that he refused to stare, that his mind seemed to be anywhere else except what was in front of him. You were bothered that your very attractive, older neighbour, was a man built on moral code and integrity, when all you longed for in that moment was to contaminate his mind with thoughts as filthy and as depraved as yours. You wanted to watch him crumble to his knees just for you, like a follower kneeling at an altar before the rapture, desperate for salvation. But you should know better by now.

Leon stared at your retreating figure, before he looked down at his hands. Translucent scars that all have their own story, whether it be from blades, bullets, or shrapnel. Leon's hands have caused more destruction than salvation. He doesn't deserve to touch you, to feel the softness of your skin against his own calloused grasp. Leon felt like one sick scoundrel, letting an innocent & lovable lamb walk right into his home. You were trusting - far too trusting, and Leon is unsure of whether he is the shepherd or the wolf. His mind replayed the vision of your body, clad in black lace panties and a white tank top, and it played over and over in his brain until the tape broke, and he found himself panting your name with his cock in his fist, pearlescent beads of cum dripping from his weeping tip. Leon is a man who killed hundreds - no, thousands of people, yet somehow this sole act made his stomach lurch with revulsion more than anything else.

…

Despite the seed of guilt digging into his gut like a thorn in his side, Leon couldn't truly keep himself away from you. You're sat across him on the couch, bare knees hugged to your chest as you both watch a movie.

"…Why are we here?" Leon asked, leaning back and crossing his arms. You watched his muscles tense underneath that skin-tight navy quarter zip.

"To watch a movie?" You replied, as if he was asking a ridiculous question.

"No, I mean… You, here. In my living room." Leon runs a hand over his face, his hand momentarily pausing at his jaw. Since when did he become so comfortable slipping into such a domestic routine with his much younger neighbour? "You're basically half my age, kid. There's plenty of people on this street who are even more friendly, and could probably still keep up with whatever jokes are trending on the internet." Leon added with a sardonic chuckle.

"But they're not you. And I like spending time with you." You shrugged, the skin of knees shone underneath the overhead lights. "And I'm not a kid. I'm nowhere near one. A lot of people would even consider me expired, you know?" You added with a slight sulk.

"I know, I know… But I'm just… A lot older than you. If you're expired, I'm fossilized at this point."

"That's not something that bothers me. I'm an adult, have been for quite some time, and I get to choose my company. And I like your company." You replied, skin suddenly feeling a little itchy for no good reason.

"Don't get me wrong - I enjoy your company too. But I've been an adult for a lot longer…" Leon began.

"No- don't even finish whatever sentence you're going to start. I like spending my time with you." You sat up straight, as if the back of the couch suddenly grew sharp quills. The air in the room suddenly felt thick, it held so many unsaid words to the point where the windows and doors were bursting at the seams, begging for the last thread barely holding everything together to be pulled.

"You shouldn't care this much about me. You have your whole life ahead of you, there's no point in wasting any more time on me." Leon muttered.

"I'm not wasting my time - god, why are you suddenly saying all of these things Leon?"

"Because I can't stop myself from wanting to spend time with you, okay? And it's- I'm… I'm disgusting for it. You're near Sherry's age." You could tell Leon was trying to hold his words back.

"But why is that such an issue?" Your expression was curious, but inwardly you were much like a cat pawing at a vase that was teetering at the edge of a shelf, waiting for it to topple and shatter.

"Because I don't- Fuck, I think about you in a completely different way! And I know I shouldn't, it's not fair to you." Leon sighed tiredly.

"I'm still confused." You tilted your head in such an endearing manner, it made his stomach flip.

"Sherry is like a daughter to me. And you… You're a similar age. Yet I think of you as anything but a daughter."

"Then how do you exactly think of me?"

"…No. No, I can't say it, I won't entertain that." Leon shakes his head, worried that speaking it out loud would cement all those disgusting things he already believed he was.

"Leon."

"No. You have so much to experience, you deserve to live a life where you're not waiting in anxiety, wondering if or when I'll return. It gets tiring fast, y'know? When the worry fades away, only discontempt remains. I know how it goes, and I'm not about to do that to you." You could hear the hurt in his voice; he was speaking from past experience.

You carefully propped yourself on your knees, leaning forward to close the gap a little more, as if approaching a skittish animal. "I want to make that decision for myself."

"It's a bad decision." Leon's eyes refused to meet yours. There was a silent but obvious acknowledgement - that he was running out of time. Perhaps if he were twenty years younger - his features wouldn't be as worn, his knees wouldn't start to ache when the morning frost hits, and he would be able to give you so much more of his time. And not only that, but he knew what it would look like, and the kinds of assumptions nasty people could make. But it didn't matter to you - sure, you were noticeably younger than him, but at your core, you're a woman who has already spent a good number of years climbing the career ladder and ticking off personal achievements. You were just unsure if you could get him to see it that way too.

"Not in my eyes." Your fingertips brushed along his knuckles, yet he didn't pull back, his eyes remained locked on yours.

Your stare flickered between Leon's eyes and lips as you inched closer and closer, until you could feel the soft warmth of his body heat near yours. Leon stayed rooted in his spot; he didn't dare to move out of fear that he would break all restraints. So, so close - you were so close to finding out exactly how his tongue would taste against yours, but at the last second, he turned his head away.

"…I'm sorry." You whispered, sinking back down onto your heels.

God, the sight of saying no to you was almost too much for Leon to bear. "No, no. I'm sorry. I just… I know I can't give you what you'd want in life." His gaze was fixed to his herringbone flooring, for if he stared at your crestfallen face one more time, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself from lunging across the gap he just created.

"It's okay. I should… Probably go then." You were being diplomatic and fair, despite wanting to grab Leon by the shoulders and shake him, telling him that it's not a crime to go after what he wants; to be selfish, even if it's just for a moment with you. But that's what made it all the more difficult. Leon was not a man that would do casual sex. Leon just couldn't be selfish in that way, even if for a moment, because his heart was stitched on his sleeve. As you kicked your shoes off at your front door, you realised maybe you're better off respecting his wishes.

Second Summer:

The local bar & bistro had a sticky humidity that clung to the air, despite several fans blowing at maximum speed. Stray strands of hair escaped your bun, only to become trapped by the sweat on the back of your neck.

Your date was going… Okay. Maybe "okay" is a generous statement. This was your second date with the guy - he asked for your number at the coffee shop and you decided to give him a chance. You both sat at the counter nursing a cocktail each, as you listened to him aimlessly about his day at work and something about a Lego set coming in the mail, without ever asking you a single question in return. The low-level lighting did very little to obscure that familiar figure that walked into the bar and sat only a stool's distance away from you. You stared at Leon through the mirror backsplash of the bar, your eyes meeting his as you took a long sip of your drink.

"Hey… Are you feeling okay?" Your date paused, grabbing your upper arm and giving it a slight squeeze. Leon's eyes stared at the man's hand, the taste of beer on his tongue suddenly becoming sour. Not like the beer tasted that great to begin with anyway. He hated that brand.

"U-um… Actually I just slept really poorly last night and I have a headache that just won't quit." You reluctantly tore your gaze from the reflective surface, turning towards your date. "I'm so sorry, I guess we'll just have to wrap up soon…" You grab your glass, drinking the remnants in one go.

"Okay, well, I hope you feel better. I'm on the other side of town so I should probably get going. Hope to see you again soon." Your date smiled politely, as he drank the rest of his drink in turn, before hopping out of his seat and walking off to the parking lot.

"That's it? He's not gonna drive you home? What a prick." Leon murmured beneath the lip of his beer bottle.

"Why are you here?" You asked him, crossing your arms. Leon turned away to cough for a moment, before turning back to you.

"I wanted a drink. Just a coincidence." Leon explained plainly, but you narrow your eyes in suspicion, a wordless way of telling him you weren't buying it. He folded almost immediately. "Okay. I also saw you walk out of the door last week looking all dolled up. Then I saw you do it again tonight. Dunno… it's like my body went on autopilot." Leon added with a sheepish glance.

You tried your best to play it cool, although you couldn't help but grin a little at his admission. "You told me once you don't even like the taste of this brand…" You said, eyes settled on the beer bottle in his hand, before plucking it from his grasp and taking a gulp.

"Was all they had left." Leon explained as you set his beer bottle back down on the counter. Your lip gloss left tiny meteor tracks of fine glitter on the mouth of the bottle, glinting under the amber-hued bar lights. Leon raised his lips to the rim of the beer bottle, ever so slightly brushing his lips against where your lip gloss had smudged to savour the taste. Vanilla. He took one last long gulp to finish majority of the liquid. "Sticking around for one more, or are you ready to go home?" He asked.

…

Your heels clicked against the pavement - Leon purposely kept his pace slow, out of concern that you would faceplant into the concrete with one wrong step. You were initially thrilled to spend time with him once more, but you were less thrilled that Leon seemed unsure in whether to push you away or pull you in close.

"So… We're talking again now?" You asked, still unable to suppress how miffed you were since your last interaction in his living room in the spring.

"…I'm sorry I pushed you away earlier. I became scared of my own feelings, and I didn't know how to act." His apology was direct and sincere. It made it hard for you to get and stay angry with him. Any fight left in your gut had instantly dissipated, especially when you caught sight of the dark circles under his eyes seem a little more prominent than usual.

"It's fine… I realise I was coming off a bit strong without considering your feelings." You responded. A lapse in comfortable silence followed your conversation, before Leon broke it once more.

"Aren't you in pain walking in those heels? Our homes are still about a mile away." He asked you.

"Yeah, but I've had a few drinks in me, so I'll just regret it tomorrow morning instead." You shrugged.

"Horrible idea. You'll be the one in orthopedic sneakers before me." Leon teased, and you playfully thwacked his arm in response. "Let me carry you instead." Leon added - he knew it was a bad idea, he only just created the distance, but in one of his rare acts of selfishness, he wanted to close that distance too.

Both of your footsteps paused. "Really? You won't send me your insurance bill in the mail if you need a hip replacement after this?" You joked.

"Just get on." Leon chuckled, lowering himself as you hopped on his back. The warmth of his arms encased your legs, your arms looped around his neck loosely as your body pressed against his back. There's that scent again; the almost acrid tone of soap, soothed by the milky note of sandalwood and the musk of his own skin. You had half a mind to bury your nose in his neck, but you had enough self restraint to behave.

"…If you keep this up, I'm never going to get over you." Your voice was barely above a whisper.

"I know. And I'm sorry. It's selfish of me." Leon apologised once more.

"No. It's okay. Everybody should be selfish, at least once in a while." God you were so forgiving, even when you didn't need to be. Even when you shouldn't be. Leon's steps slowed as he trudged up the stairs to your front porch, before setting you down on your feet. As you stuck your keys in the door, you noticed his form already turning away from you. "Leon." Your voice called out, hand already instinctively grabbing at his wrist. "Please don't go. Just stay with me, just a little longer. Please." You've never been one for pleading, but for him you made the exception.

…

You made it only four steps through your entryway before feeling Leon's arms circle around your waist. "Fuck… What am I doing?" Leon exhaled. "Tell me to stop, please. Tell me how awful I'm being right now. How bad of an idea this is." He added, but his arms remained encasing you against his much larger and stronger frame. He was about to let go of his final shred of self-doubt.

"I don't want to do that. Just kiss me already. Please." Your lips were millimetres away from touching, and you decided to close the gap before either of you had a second thought. Upon contact, your nerves felt like red phosphorus once a match had finally struck against it, every single cell within your body igniting in response to his touch. His lips were softer than you thought they'd be, and despite so much passion, there's still an underlying tenderness and care in his kiss. As you broke the kiss for air, Leon realised that he was holding onto an ache ever since he first met you. It astounded him; how holding himself back for so long could cause so much anguish to the point where your kiss felt like a physical alleviation. "I've wanted to do that for so long. Wanted you for so long." You whispered as you caught your breath.

"I'm yours. I'm yours in every single sense of the word, if you'll have me." He breathes out his own reply, fingertips grazing the skin where your neck and jawline meet. Oh how sweet he was without even realising it - you found yourself wondering if you'd wake up with a jaw full of rotting teeth the next morning if you indulge in this man too much. Fuck, at this point you couldn't care less if you actually did. A grin spread across your lips as his words echoed in your ear, and you swear you were getting high off his affection.

"Of course I'll have you, as if you need to ask." You chuckled in response, pulling him in once more before he hoists you by the thighs, carrying you to your bedroom. Leon's fingertips traced little patterns on the underside of your calf, his body caged between your legs as you both shed the upper layer of your clothes.

"Let me take my time with you." Leon whispered, his stubble lightly scratching against the inside of your thighs as he hooked his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties, letting out the softest groan of pleasure as the sticky string of your own arousal snapped as he pulled the fabric off your body. Leon noticed that your panties weren't made of black lace this time, they were plain black cotton. Unlike that day you were gardening in the springtime and used his shower to change. A sense of smugness bloomed in his gut, the realisation that you had no plans for that date of yours, but you were wearing something like that for him.

"What's that look for?" You asked him, your brow raised but breath struggling to remain.

"Hm? Nothing." His answer was plain, but there was an indiscernible look of complacency on his face. "You're just so beautiful." Leon's mouth found its way to your neck, peppering small kisses in the crook, as his fingers barely brush against the spot you want him to touch the most.

"You're messing with me." You pouted, thighs clenching as he applied a fraction more pressure against you.

"Am I?" He whispered against your neck, slowly sliding two fingers in, as his mouth traveled further down to your chest. "I wouldn't mess with such a pretty girl." His tone is one of mock sympathy, your chest rising and falling beneath his tongue.

"W-want you…" You stammered, body already shuddering and buzzing with anticipation.

"Just a little longer. I haven't tasted you yet. You can be a little more patient, right baby?" That low and warm tone he took with you left your knees wobbly like jello. You nodded as he lowered his head between your thighs, staring up at you with those pale blue eyes, his gaze as intense but tender as ever. Leon wanted to take it slow, to go easy on you, but after the first three slow strokes of his tongue, all the way from your sopping wet hole right up to your clit, he couldn't take it anymore. His hands gripped against the flesh of your thighs, his hunger turned carnal, and he was consuming you. The way he held you, the way he took such good care of you, you could've sworn for a moment his ravenousness was going to take your soul next. Leon was exactly where he wanted to be; on his knees between your legs, worshiping you as if you were his one and only god. Yet you were the one echoing his name, over and over, as if reciting a prayer.

"Fuck, fuck… Jesus christ…" You moaned as you were on the verge of your orgasm, eyes fluttering shut as you felt a white hot sensation in your gut. Leon held back a joke about you saying the wrong name, but his tongue was too busy fucking against your cunt anyway. That familiar feeling of a tense chord snapping hit you, and it sent you reeling so hard that you wondered if you were about to pass out. Your back hit the mattress once more, and you watched in wordless awe as Leon stood up and licked his fingers clean, his eyes never leaving yours. "Your turn." You exhaled.

"Not sure I'd have enough gas in the tank to go the extra mile. Just let me be inside of you." Leon chuckled, eyeing your mirror that faced opposite your bed. "Interesting placement for a mirror." He teased.

"It's near my closet so I can quickly check my outfits." You explained, your breathing now evened out.

"Is that all it's for?" You could practically see the gears turning in his head as he gently pulled your hips towards his. You gave him a silent nod of permission, as he sunk his cock into you inch by inch, as you accommodated to the stretch.

"Holy fuck." Your eyes rolled so far back at the sensation, you could practically see the inside of your skull.

"Fuck- you're so tight." He groaned. Leon's hips began to move at a faster pace, the obscene sounds of your arousal and skin slapping echoed through your room. You could only mewl and pant as you felt the tip of his cock collide into that sweet spot that made you tense up, over and over again.

"W-wanted you so badly for so long. N-needed this." Was all you could stutter out.

"Shh, shh baby. You don't need to use your words. Just watch." Leon whispers in the crook of your neck before angling your jaw so you could see yourself getting fucked by him in the mirror. The reflection was depicting something so perverted, so vulgar, but you found yourself enjoying every second of it. You could see the way his sinewy, broad shoulders tensed, with the dips and peaks of his muscular abdomen now glistening with a thin layer of sweat, but most importantly, you were seeing your bodies so wonderfully tangled and intertwined, as if your spirits were about cleave to each other for eternity.

"S-so good, faster… Please." You pleaded, and Leon obliged. God, you were so perfect for him - all of you, body, mind, and soul. He was a man who was diligently obedient, even if they were orders he didn't want to take. But for you? He'd do anything at your beck and call, like a dog called by a whistle, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Especially when you ask him so nicely. At this rate, neither of you were going to last much longer.

"Fuck, I… I don't know how much longer I can hold it." Leon's voice was raspy at this point, strained groans of pleasure rumbling in his throat.

"Don't… G-Gonna cum again. Don't pull out. It's safe." You whimpered as his hips snapped against yours, the rhythm and force getting faster and stronger. It was too much for both of you, with your orgasm tumbling forward first, and Leon's immediately after, with hot, white sticky ropes of cum dripping out of you. You both collapsed on the bed that night, falling asleep shortly after. For once in his life, Leon allowed himself to be selfish, and be with you.

Leon wondered if his act of selfishness tipped the karmic scale in ways he wouldn't know. Just after celebrating his third anniversary with you, he found his answer.

…

"It's blood… Leon, that's blood." You gasped, rushing over to his kitchen sink as you fetched him a glass of water and a rag. His vision blurred and snapped back into focus, the few droplets of blood shimmered under the soft yellow glow of his lamp.

"Shit." Leon sighed, gratefully taking the rag in his hand and wiping it clean, the cold rush of water in his mouth doing little to wash away the metallic tang of his own blood. He fiddled with the silver band on his ring finger as he heard your footsteps retreat into the kitchen. It was silent, save for the sound of the running faucet. You felt the bile rise up in your throat, but you swallowed the acidic, bitter taste back down. You wanted to be strong for him, you didn't want to make it harder on him than whatever it is that he's fighting. But it didn't help that you had only just exchanged yours vows a few months ago, and you were planning your future with him in mind. That future began to look very uncertain.

You both left the doctor's clinic with no answers the following day - and it was a terrifying thought that something that couldn't be diagnosed was beginning to actively kill him. After that, Leon left for two nights and came back the following day, telling you that his workplace confirmed it was a delayed onset virus, due to his exposure in Raccoon City all the way back in 1998. The news seemed a little hopeful at first - perhaps the government were working on antivirals or even rushing a cure. But as the weeks passed, there were no news of any efforts for a cure. It made you curl your upper lip in disgust whenever you thought about it - Leon was working for an entity that wrung and squeezed him dry, ready to throw him out like a used rag. It wasn't fair.

As time went on, you could see the virus digging its claws into him day by day. He had dark circles that were lingering, even when he was sleeping for twelve hours, including the two hours he'd spend collapsed on the couch after getting home from work. You began to feel helpless, flailing in a riptide that pushed and pulled you in several directions. The worst part about it was that no matter how hard you tried to conceal your sadness and anxiety, Leon could see right through you like cellophane. He was unwavering, even in the face of a death sentence. It frustrated you that you couldn't be as steadfast and unflinching as him. You wanted to scream, but you knew that being the man he was, Leon would be the one to reassure you that everything would be okay, shushing and lulling you to sleep once your tears dried - so instead you just endured it.

It wouldn't go unnoticed - the way Leon began to hold you extra tight at night, stare at your face just a little more so he could commit it to his memory, for if he were laying out on the floor bleeding, he would want to see your face one last time before closing his eyes forever. But the most painful part of it was your guilt. Leon could see the flicker of concern every time your gaze settled on those spindly black veins, a sign of active necrosis. You told him it didn't scare you, that you were just monitoring them, but Leon began to bandage his hand up, or wear gloves unnecessarily, despite your protests. God, you felt so damn guilty that even when he's losing strength every day, he was still doing everything he could to shield you from preemptively grieving.

You recalled the feel of gauze wound tightly around his palm as his hand gently stroked the underside of your calf, his eyes locked with yours as he spoke over the phone with his friend, Claire. It wasn't a serious conversation for the most part - you could hear them talk about each other's symptoms, followed by some stupid joke Leon made, and it was all laughter and reminiscing from there. You let out a giggle as his fingertips tickled your ankle before you sank further into the couch, accidentally falling asleep before their phone conversation was over. Leon didn't mind though, he just carried you into bed and held you.

You didn't realise that was the final night you'd have with him. The following day, he was told to have his bags packed by 7am. At the crack of dawn, his kiss left a searing imprint on your lips, and you found your fingertips brushing against them as if you were trying to cling onto that warmth.

…

"…And how did you feel after hearing that news?"

The DSO were kind enough to give your husband a proper funeral, they even extended their generosity so far that they covered your therapy appointments in the wake of Leon's death. The psychologist placed her pen down, fingers interlocking as her expression remained soft. You parted your lips to speak, but your throat seized up, unable to utter a word. "I'm sorry, please, take your time." Her voice remained gentle and soft, as if her words were trying to cushion the raw, fraying emotions within you. You appreciated her efforts, but it did little to soothe you, for you could only rub your fingertips against your mouth as your vision became blurred by tears. Sometimes if you rubbed your fingertips hard enough, the friction would create that same feeling of warmth that you felt when he kissed you goodbye for the final time.

"I… I…" You managed to rasp out, but then the rest of your words died in your throat. The vision of a black armored car pulled into the driveway of yours and Leon's home, and your body instantly crumpled before you could hold onto something. You didn't even make it to the swinging chair of his front porch, the one that both of you spent many nights chatting on. You knew Leon was gone before a foot could even step out of that car.

You knew they were telling you things, but the ringing in your ears was a relentless assault. "Tried to recover the body", "managed to save an innocent FBI agent who was roped into the situation", and "honourable sacrifice" were all you could decipher. It only made your blood boil. You wanted him back - you wanted your fucking husband back, but there was nothing in this world that would be able to resurrect him from the dead.

You never knew pain like this before. You didn't know how much it would hurt to roll over in what was once your shared bed and reach out for Leon, only for your hands to be met with thin air. It's the type of pain that lingers in several ways - a constantly tense jaw, stinging eyes from crying the night before, and tender, red skin from sitting under the scalding hot shower for too long.

"I'm sorry. I thought I could, but I can't." Was all you could get out before choking on tears.

"I understand, it's okay. Let's try again next session." The psychologist said, before you hastily walked out and drove home.

…

You pulled into the driveway as usual - a part of you always got your hopes up, that maybe one day you'll pull into the driveway and see Leon's car there, but it never happened. The house felt much too big in Leon's absence, but you tried your best to drown the silence with the sound of the TV. As you rolled up your sleeves and began to wash your hands, you noticed that specific soapy smell from your new hand wash. As you brought your hands close to your face, you realised exactly what it was. It smelt similar to Leon. How fucking stupid. How fucking stupid that a hand wash could set you off like this. And yet you stood still, inhaling the scent of your hands before tears slipped from your eyes. Those tears morphed into sobs, and those sobs became howls of loss and anguish.

…Yet the following morning, you continued to keep pushing forward. And the day after. And the day after that. And those days turned into months, which turned into years. Leon always talked about how you had so much of your life ahead of you, and so you decided that it would be ungracious to end your life when he sacrificed his own to save everybody else's. Despite taking it day by day, you never fully got rid of the numbness after losing him - because you're certain that when Leon died, a part of your soul died with him. Your love was replaced by grief. It filled all the empty spaces - it laid on his side of the bed, it walked on the sidepath with you, and it even filled the creases where he sat on the couch.

You knew Leon was gone, but you waited for him anyway, leaving the porch light on just in case he would return.

He never did.

apologies for poor formatting, posting from mobile lol. also i never write angst but the re9 bad end was calling me