Mrs Scott Kennedy

When he proposed the idea, everyone quickly agreed. No officer would have to fill the position, they wouldn’t have to wait for an applicant, and they could trust you would get the job done correctly. Now what they didn’t imagine happening is the Chief of police suddenly not knowing how to behave.

The first few weeks, Leon checked up on you to make sure everything was going smoothly while you were being trained. You adjusted rather quickly. He’d stay by the desk, flirt with you for a couple minutes, and return to his office.

Then the following months, the visits became more frequent. He’d start dropping by multiple times throughout the day, and stayed longer than he was supposed to. He loved having you working at the station. He could see you and talk to you any time he wanted.

And although it was sweet, it threw off the function of the second floor where the officers really needed him to be. They took matters into their own hands and limited him to one daily visit.

That ended up backfiring as soon as the rule was implemented. They saw him heading downstairs, and made a note he was taking his daily visit. So, they minded their business and went back to working.

Hours passed, someone was on the phone to speak with him. The officer tried to ring him, but he wasn’t picking up. Unusual for him. She stood up from her desk and quickly rushed to his office, just to not see Leon there at all.

The man had the entire floor looking for him because the call was important. The bathroom, the library, the archive room, the weapons room. They were practically seething when they found him sitting behind the receptionist desk with you.

All he said was, “You said one visit, not that I had to come back.”

They didn’t blame you since you were actually getting your work done.

They were honestly debating whether or not they should enforce the whole no dating in the workplace rule again. But it didn’t make sense considering you two were married and so were Captains Chris and Jill Redfield of S.T.A.R.S.

So they found the only other solution.

The following work week, Leon got banned from the first floor.

He took it to the heart. He watched you from the second floor like some Victorian yearner until he got sent back to his office by one of his lieutenants.

He tried to sneak past them on several occasions. Sometimes it worked. Other times?

“Chief! Don’t you go down those stairs!”

Leon huffed. He was so close this time. He’d made it halfway down. He glared at the officer standing at the top of stairs. You were at the reception desk, going through mail the station received. He wanted to use the excuse that he was going to pick something up, but they’d just say they would bring it to him. He reluctantly turned around and went right back up.

He passed the sign holder by the stairs made for him that said, “Lunch is at 1PM. Shift ends at 6PM.”

It got bad enough that they assigned someone to keep an eye on him.

The new rookie that joined was so confused why they told him not to allow Chief Kennedy on the first floor under any circumstances besides lunchtime and when it was time to go. Plus, they didn’t even go into detail as to why the Chief was banned from the first floor. They said it so ominously, as if the world would end if he made it down there.

Technically, it was an easy task. His office door was always shut, no matter what. If it ever opened, the loud creaking would alert the rookie and he’d tell his superior the first floor was off limits.

Today, Leon opened his office door cautiously. His officers were overwhelmed at their desks, especially the rookie who was stuck babysitting him. Paperwork was due at the end of the week. Everyone was trying to get it done so they wouldn’t have to stay late on a Friday night.

Perfect. He slipped out unnoticed. He left the door at a crack. If he closed it now, it might catch their attention and he refused to lose this golden opportunity. He kept his body against the wall, heading in the direction of the stairs.

You were making copies of forms. While the printer did the task for you, you swiveled your chair to the computer again to check on an email. Just as you were doing that, there came your husband rushing down the stairs. Leon made it to the bottom step and walked across the lobby towards the reception desk.

Oh great. What was he planning now? Your hand hovered over the phone, ready to call one of the lieutenants. But you didn’t since your husband wasn’t staring directly at you, rather the staircase on your right. He dug his hand in the pocket of his pants and pulled out a slip of paper.

Leon carefully slid it across the counter, and continued walking without looking at you.

The paper was folded in half. You raised a brow. He was probably asking you to meet him in the filing room again. You grabbed the paper and opened it.

“What the…” You muttered.

Do you like me?

Two options. One box said yes, and the other box said yes. You furrowed your brows.

You looked to your right. Leon was leaning against the stair railing. He drew a heart in the air with his pointer fingers and then winked at you. Your eyes followed as he went up to the second floor.

Reminder: File a complaint.

You clicked your pen. Underneath the two boxes, you drew a third one. Right beside it you wrote, “No”, and checked it.

“Is he here?” You glanced up. The rookie was out of air after running down a flight of stairs. Poor boy was carrying the fate of the world on his shoulders and he refused to let it end. That or he thought he might get fired for not keeping Chief Kennedy in check.

The apartment is quiet except for the low murmur of the TV and the sound of rain against the windows. Leon’s in the bedroom changing after getting home late, his duffel bag dropped near the door, jacket tossed over a chair.

You’re curled up on the couch scrolling mindlessly through your phone when something catches your eye near the lamp beside the TV: a spider. Not tiny, either—actually, big enough to make your stomach immediately flip. It crawls down the wall slowly, deliberately taunting you, you think.

Your breath catches in your throat.

“...Leon?” you call out quietly, hoping not to cause the creature to skittle off. No response, of course; Leon only hears you muttering under your breath when you're cussing him out. Selective hearing, you call it.

The spider moves again. You sit up, rigid.

“Leoooon?" You wail. Still nothing. And then the thing suddenly disappears behind the lamp. Your phone drops to the floor with a bang.

“Oh my G— LEON!"

You hear heavy footsteps thunder from the bedroom and, before you can process it, Leon appears around the corner with a handgun already drawn, expression sharp and alert in a way that makes your heart jump for an entirely different reason; he's topless, still in his tactical pants, hair pushed back out of his face.

“Y/N? What's wrong?” he calls as he hastens to the living room, face strewn with concern. His eyes sweep the apartment automatically, trained instinct taking over before you can even answer.

You stare at him, mouth agape. He stares back expectantly, eyebrows raised.

“…there was a spider.”

Leon doesn’t move: the gun remains in his hand for a solid three seconds while the words process in his brain.

“What?”

You point weakly toward the lamp. “It was...huge.”

Leon lets the weapon drop to his side as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You screamed.”

“Because it was huge.”

His shoulders sag with relief so visible you almost feel guilty. He drags a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart, I thought someone broke in."

“Something did break in!” you scowl.

Leon actually closes his eyes for a second like he’s reconsidering every life decision that led him here. Then, he looks at you— curled defensively into the corner of the couch, eyes still fixed on the lamp like the spider might reappear armed and dangerous— and he laughs.

He clicks the safety back on and sets the handgun carefully on the table out of reach before approaching the lamp.

“You know,” he says without looking back at you, “I’ve seen spiders bigger than cars.”

“At least you knew where they were— this one disappeared and now it could be anywhere.”

“Fair point.”

He nudges the lamp slightly; you immediately pull your legs higher onto the couch. Leon snorts softly under his breath before crouching down to inspect behind the table. His movements are calm, methodical: the same focus he uses on missions, which somehow makes this even more embarrassing.

“There it is,” Leon says finally.

"Yeah? You see it? Don't let it run away again—"

“Relax.”

“I'll relax once it's on the bottom of your boot.”

Leon grabs a nearby magazine and an empty glass from the coffee table, folds it once, and with one quick movement traps the spider under a glass. You stare at him wide-eyed, expectantly.

“Better?” he asks.

Before you can reply, the spider starts crawling against the glass. You make a horrified noise and Leon stands up with the glass and magazine as he walks toward the window.

“Oh, honey,” he laughs, shaking his head. “You’re really scared of this little thing?”

“Yes! You thought I was being murdered five minutes ago— that's how scared I am!”

“Don't joke about that," he scowls, "or I'll put this in our bed."

You glare while he carries the trapped spider toward the window and releases it outside into the rain. When he turns back around, you’re still visibly tense, eyes scanning the walls suspiciously. Leon walks back over slowly, amusement softening into something warmer.

“Aw, sweetheart, come on. It's gone now.”

The second he sits beside you, you immediately move into him without hesitation, pressing against his naked chest while he wraps an arm around your shoulders automatically, rubbing soothing circles on your upper arm. You breathe him in: worn-off cologne, musk and sweat from the day, the smell of his body wash. Leon.

“For the record,” he says, “please reserve your screams for situations where I might actually need to help you.”

“You say that like that wasn’t a life-threatening situation.”

“...yeah.”

As he watched you laugh while Chris sat close beside you and Carlos leaned in suddenly far too comfortably for Leon’s liking. Now he was seriously reconsidering whether he was actually a peaceful person at all.

He tried to calm himself, he really did, but failed miserably. His fingers slowly tightened around the glass in his hand until his knuckles turned pale. He was pressing it hard enough that it probably should’ve cracked beneath the pressure, but somehow, it didn’t.

And then it got worse. Because the moment his eyes landed on you again wearing that sleek red dress with thin straps hugging every curve of your body perfectly Leon genuinely felt something inside him short-circuit. And it infuriated him.

The fact alone that he couldn’t touch you was enough to drive insane. He couldn’t pull you closer, couldn’t rest a hand against your waist, couldn’t lean into your space the way he desperately wanted to. And God he hated it most because you weren’t his. Not really. Not in the way he wanted. Not in the way his stupid, aching heart had already decided you should be.

But the smart part of Leon? The rational, most painfully self-aware part? It kept insisting this was for the best. Because admitting he loved you meant vulnerability. Stability and Commitment. The things Leon convinced himself he could never properly give anyone. Especially not to you. 

At least that’s what made sense in his head. 

But as he watched you now? Looking completely fine without him.. Laughing so easily while he sat across the room slowly drinking himself stupid?

He doesn't believe in self imposed rules anymore.

Leon wasn’t even aware of how intensely he had been boring holes into Chris’ skull with his glare until Claire's voice finally pulled him back to reality. 

“Relax,” Claire said casually from beside him, completely unaware of the internal war happening inside.

Or maybe she was aware. Because honestly, everyone knew Leon was painfully in love with you.

Well everyone except you knew.

And honestly, that part hurts the most sometimes. Watching you stay so painfully oblivious to it all while he lacked the courage to just confess outright.

Even worse, every single time your friends joked about Leon being in love with you, you always laughed it off like it was impossible. Like it was just another joke.

The memory alone was genuinely fucking painful for him to think about.

“They’re just talking,” Claire added while taking another sip of her drink.

But Leon didn’t look away from you. “I am relaxed,” he said flatly without turning toward her.

Claire slowly lowered her glass, staring at him with visible concern. “You look like you’re planning to murder my brother.”

Leon finally glanced sideways at her, jaw tightening slightly. “I am not about to murder someone.”

A complete lie. Leon absolutely wanted to murder Chris.

Across the table, Carlos laughed loudly at something you said, his body leaning just a little too comfortably toward yours. Leon’s eye twitched slightly at the sight. He inhaled deeply through his nose, trying to steady himself, trying to remind himself of something painfully important.

You weren’t his.

No matter how desperately, pathetically, hopelessly he wanted you to be.

But you weren’t.

“…I could break his jaw,” Leon muttered quietly under his breath.

Unfortunately, Claire heard him anyway. “What?” she asked immediately, nearly choking on her drink.

“Nothing,” Leon answered quickly, shaking his head once, though his breathing had already deepened again the moment his eyes landed back on you.

And then it got worse. Carlos reached for your hands with that stupidly confident grin on his face.

Leon saw red.

Because why were you letting Carlos hold your hand like that? Why weren’t you pulling away? The thought mixed horribly with the adrenaline already rushing through Leon’s system and the alcohol burning through his veins, until it made him genuinely furious. 

He tried to let it go, he really did, but at this point? Fuck it. If he had to create a scene tonight, then maybe he would. Leon suddenly stood up so fast that the legs of his chair scraped loudly against the floor beneath him.

“Alright,” said flatly as he stood there in complete silence.

“Oh boy,” Claire muttered quietly, already seeing the disaster unfold in real time, as she finally stared up at him. “Where are you going?”

“To fix something.” Leon mumbles.

“What thing?” she asked, genuinely confused now. 

He didn't answer her question, because he was already walking toward you.

You noticed Leon immediately as you watch him walk towards you with a frown on his face.

And that was the thing about Leon. He walked into a room, and somehow everyone noticed. Not because he was loud, quite the opposite, actually but because there was just something about him that naturally pulled everyone's attention in his direction.

And sometimes, during moments like this, you found yourself wondering if maybe there was some truth behind all those jokes your friends constantly made. The ones about Leon being hopelessly in love with you.

But that was ridiculous… right?

You were probably just imagining things. Still, the thought barely had time to settle before your attention snapped fully toward him again.

Because now you realize Leon wasn’t walking toward your table.

He was marching.

Slightly unsteady from the alcohol.

By the time he finally stopped beside your table, he swayed faintly on his feet before catching himself again.

Carlos looked up first, grinning immediately. “Oh, hey Leon—”

Leon didn’t even acknowledge him, instead his eyes locked onto yours, “You,” he said firmly.

You blinked once, caught completely off guard. “…Me?”

“Yes.”

“…umm..?” you hummed quietly.

Leon didnt answer you instead he scooted near you, hovering just close enough to make your heartbeat stutter without fully pressing himself against you, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath immediately.

He was drunk. Very drunk. And Leon barely ever got drunk, which honestly explained a lot. The strange intensity burning behind his blue eyes. The way he had marched over here like he was seconds away from starting a war.

But you still didnt know what this was about.

Beside you, Chris leaned back in his chair slightly, looking far too entertained by this entire situation.

“Uh oh,” he said, already trying not to laugh.

“Are you oka—” you started instinctively, genuine worry flashing across your face despite the fact that your heart had already begun doing violent somersaults inside your chest.

Leon shakes his head as he points his fingers directly at you. “Screw that,” he interrupted immediately before pausing for a second like he was trying to organize the chaos happening inside his head. “Tell me something.”

You frowned slightly at him, confused at his interruption. “What?”

Leon’s jaw tightened hard, like he was physically holding back ten different emotions at once. “If I’m wrong,” he said slowly, voice rough from alcohol and something dangerously close to jealousy, “tell me I’m wrong.”

Beside you, muttered beneath his breath, “This is about to be bad.”

You immediately shot him a deadly glare from the side, making him raise both hands in surrender instantly.

“Hey, not my fault,” he said, already trying not to laugh.

Ignoring him completely, your attention slowly shifted back toward Leon again.

You blinked in confusion, tilting your head slightly. “About what?”

Leon exhaled sharply through his nose. “Do you like him?”

You nearly choked on your own saliva. “…W-what?”

Beside you, Carlos immediately choked on his drink too. “Bro—”

Leon ignored him entirely. “I asked,” Leon repeated, stepping closer to you this time, his voice lower now but noticeably more unsteady, “do you like him?”

You stared at him completely baffled by his question. “…Leon.”

“Don’t ‘Leon’ me. Answer me,” Leon drawled stubbornly before suddenly hiccuping once right afterward. 

You blinked, a smile involuntarily appearing at your lips. “Are you jealous?”

“Yes, I am,” Leon admitted without even a second of hesitation, and somehow that only made your heart beat even faster. Because… God. The blunt honesty spilling so easily from a drunk Leon made your head spin.

You genuinely hadn’t expected that answer.

And you ask yourself… So were they all right this entire time?

All those jokes. All those teasing comments from your friends about Leon being hopelessly in love with you.

Your thoughts felt completely overwhelmed now, your chest warm and dizzy all at once. But the worst part? You were loving every second of it.

Chris actually made a noise of disbelief. “No way.”

Carlos laughed. “Oh this is gold.”

He just kept staring at you with those impossibly blue eyes like you were the only person left in the room.  And suddenly, your brain short-circuited. “…What the fuck, Leon?”

He nodded slowly like your reaction was completely reasonable. “That’s the question, love,” he muttered, his words slurring together slightly. “What the fuck indeed.”

Then, before your already overheating brain could recover, a crooked smile tugged at his lips. “Why aren’t you in my arms already?” he asked with a soft drunken chuckle before stumbling slightly again mid-sentence.

You were actually speechless now.

Because what the hell were you even supposed to say to that?

Leon squinted faintly at you when your silence stretched too long between you both. “…That’s not fair,” he complained quietly.

“You’re drunk, Leon,” you finally managed to say, though your voice sounded significantly weaker than you intended as heat spread all over your body.

“I’m honest."

Carlos snorted. “Oh my God.”

Leon suddenly turned toward Carlos now, drunkenly pointing a finger straight at him with the intensity of a man about to start a fistfight in public.

“And you,” he said firmly, words slurring together slightly from the alcohol, “quit flirting with my girlfriend and stay the hell away from her.”

You froze, and a small disbelieving laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

“…Girlfriend?” you repeated slowly, trying desperately to compose yourself while Leon stood dangerously close to you, completely unaware of what he was doing to your poor heart right now.

Leon blinked, then rubbed his face, his ears turning red. “…Did I say that out loud?”

Silence.

Then Chris burst out laughing.

And you just stared at Leon.

And Leon exhaled like a man accepting his fate. “…Yea,” he said finally, pointing vaguely between you and himself. “But I am not lying."

Silence, the entire bar stayed painfully silent after that.

Even Leon looked too stunned to joke for once.

Meanwhile, you just stared at Leon like your brain had completely stopped functioning.

Because all of it made sense as Leon stood in front of you, drunk out of his mind, jealous enough to start a fight, and somehow accidentally confessing feelings he had apparently been carrying around for God knows how long.

Your entire body felt unbearably hot now, warmth spreading everywhere beneath your skin so quickly it almost made you dizzy. 

Leon swallowed hard beneath your stare before suddenly pointing toward the exit of the bar, before turning towards you again. “You.”

You blinked rapidly, your breath catching embarrassingly hard in your throat. “…Me again?” you repeated weakly.

“mhm.” Leon nods.

And before you could say anything Leon lightly grabbed your wrist before pulling you up from your chair.

“Leon—”

“We need air,” he interrupted immediately.

Chris buried his face into his hands. “Oh my God.”

Carlos was practically dying laughing now. “Live entertainment.”

But Leon ignored everyone and his entire focus now was entirely on you.

After that, Leon gently dragged you along with him toward the exit before pushing the bar door open, the cold night air immediately hitting both of you, as the loud music faded behind you in slow motion.

The city lights outside reflected softly against the wet pavement of the bar, while Leon finally stopped walking a few feet away from the entrance.

And the cool dampness in the air immediately filled your lungs, carrying the earthy scent of rain-soaked pavement and wet concrete around you. You swallowed softly, trying to steady your racing heartbeat while looking down at you with those stupidly blue, unfairly soft puppy eyes of his. “…Leon,” you said quietly, your voice gentler now beneath the city noise. “You’re drunk.”

“I know.” 

“You probably don’t even realize what you’re saying.” you argue.

“No,” Leon interrupted immediately, shaking his head once before letting out the tiniest hiccup afterward.

That almost made you laugh, and the moment the sound slipped from you, Leon smiled softly, the kind of smile that looked dangerously rare on him.

“I love when you laugh,” he murmured.

And God.

That comment alone nearly made your knees give out beneath you.

But then his expression shifted. The teasing drunken amusement faded slowly from his face as he looked at you again like really looked at you this time. As, he was seeing every hidden part of you at once. Every hesitation. Every fear. Every carefully built wall you spent years hiding behind.

And suddenly the humor inside your chest disappeared completely, replaced by something far more terrifying at Leons earnest voice.

“I wanted to say this for a long time,” he admitted quietly. “Like… a really long time.”

Your heart started beating painfully hard.

Leon dragged a hand through his messy hair before laughing once beneath his breath, frustrated at himself. “You wanna know what the worst part is?” he muttered. “Everybody already knew.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Claire.” He counted on his fingers now. “Chris. Probably Hunnigan. Maybe the president too at this point.” He chuckles at his own confession. 

And a tiny laugh escaped you too, as your eyes filled with tears.

Leon stared at you softly after hearing it. “I just…” he exhaled shakily. “I didn’t think I was allowed to want this.”

That hurts your heart instantly. “Leon…”

“But then I see people touching you,” he continued quietly, stepping a little closer now. “Laughing with you. Looking at you the way I want to…”

His voice softened dangerously at the end. “And it drives me fucking insane.”

Leon looked terrified now that the words were finally out in the open.

Your breath caught painfully in your throat. A heavy silence settled between both of you before you finally found the courage to speak, because this wasn’t teasing anymore. This wasn’t drunken flirting or careless jokes thrown around at a bar.

This was real.

“I thought everyone was joking,” you admitted quietly.

Your words made Leon visibly stunned. His eyes widened slightly in disbelief, like he genuinely couldn’t understand how you could have ever thought that. “Why would you think that?” he asked softly.

You swallowed nervously against the cold night air. “Because…” you started weakly, your chest tightening painfully. “I couldn’t believe you ever could.”

For a second, Leon just stared at you.

Then something in his expression softened completely. But Leon didn’t look away. If anything, his expression softened even more at your quiet admission. Slowly carefully he lifted his hands, hovering them near your cheeks like he was afraid to touch you without permission. And when you finally gave the smallest nod, Leon sucked in a quiet breath before gently cupping your face in his hands.

You instinctively leaned into his touch, warmth spreading through your chest so quickly it almost hurt.

A tiny sound escaped Leon’s lips at the feeling alone, like even this much affection from you was enough to undo him completely.

He shook his head softly afterward, his thumbs brushing lightly against your skin.

“I wasn’t joking,” he murmured quietly. “Never.”

Your heart feels dangerously close to bursting now.

“And you don’t have to say it back,” Leon continued, his voice softer than you had ever heard it before. “I just needed you to know.”

And God something inside your chest completely melted at the sight of him standing there so vulnerable and unsure after years of hiding behind sarcasm and avoidance.

You stepped closer to him without thinking. “…You’re really drunk,” you whispered against his chest.

Leon’s breath hitched softly, and he went completely still for a moment before finally nodding once. “Yeah,” he murmured quietly.

Then a crooked, almost helpless smile appeared on his face. “But unfortunately,” he admitted, his blue eyes never leaving yours, “I’m also completely in love with you.”

Your heart actually stuttered painfully inside your chest.

And before you could overthink yourself out of it again, you suddenly grabbed the front of Leon’s jacket and pulled him toward you, your lips now inches apart, and Leon freezes completely for one solid second, clearly stunned by your sudden movement.

Then the distance between you disappeared entirely as Leon leaned into you and kissed you eagerly, like he had been holding himself back for far too long. And suddenly Leon’s hands were everywhere they had always wanted to be one pulling you impossibly closer against him while the other slid gently along your jaw, holding you there like he never wanted to let you go again.

And you finally leaned into him.

Like you had wanted this forever too.

Because maybe you had.

But you just never let yourself believe it could actually be real.

Leon made the softest sound against your lips before his hands caressed your waist like he’d been denying himself that exact touch for years. When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathing harder than before, and Leon rested his forehead lightly against yours.

“…Holy shit,” he whispered against your skin, his breath warm as faint smelled of alcohol cling to him.

You laughed softly, your cheeks burning from his touch. “Yeah.”

Leon stared at you for another second before smiling so genuinely that it almost ruined you. “…So,” he said carefully, “can I actually call you my girlfriend now?”

You burst out laughing immediately.

“Yes you may, Leon.” you say shyly.

And for the first time in that entire night, Leon finally took a real, relieved breath.

The tension that had been clinging to his shoulders all evening slowly disappeared as he looked down at you, and somehow, for the first time since walking into that bar, he actually looked peaceful.

Your eyes drifted there every ten minutes like some kind of cursed routine. At this point, you could practically feel yourself drooling.

Which honestly made you feel absolutely pathetic, but you couldn’t help it. Instead, you licked your lips like a complete menace, a small sly smile slowly spreading across your face as your gaze drifted right back toward Leon’s arms again..

It wasn’t really your fault though, because they genuinely looked… yummy.

You shook your head once, maybe twice, trying to shake off the thought, but the sleeves of his black compression shirt were rolled up just enough to expose his forearms, veins shifting every time he typed something, and honestly? It was becoming a real problem for you to hold yourself back.

Leon had been stressed for days. Missions, reports, calls from HQ at ungodly hours. You knew he was exhausted, and you really didn’t want to push him further into that dark abyss hole. But unfortunately for him, exhaustion apparently made his biceps look even better.

It was completely unfair and wasn't your fault.

But you were trying to act normal about it. You really were. But every single time he reached for his coffee mug, your eyes followed the movement like a magnet.

At one point, you actually caught yourself leaning slightly across the couch just to get a better look.

Then suddenly,

“Okay,” Leon’s voice interrupted your thoughts without warning, making you nearly choke on your own saliva. “Out with it.”

You blinked innocently. “What?”

His ocean-blue eyes finally lifted from the laptop and landed directly on you. “You’ve been staring at me for the past hour.”

“I am not.”

“You absolutely are.”

“I was thinking.”

“About what?”

“Your arms,” you blurted out before your brain could stop you.

Leon stopped typing immediately, and now his full attention was entirely on you. Which honestly made the situation ten times worse.

“What about them?” he asked, standing up from his chair before finally stepping closer to you.

“Nothing,” you answered quickly.

What you actually wanted to say was: I want to bite them.

“You want to touch them?” he asked seriously, and the seriousness in his tone made you laugh loudly.

“No, absolutely not,” you replied quickly.

You just wanted to bite them, you think to yourself.

“You are not subtle, you know that?”

You crossed your arms defensively. “Maybe I’m just, like, concerned.”

“Concerned,” Leon repeated flatly.

“Yes.”

“About my biceps?”

“Exactly.”

“They are so big, what if they actually explode?” you blurted out quickly, staring at Leon like a deer caught in headlights after realizing you had said that out loud.

“Explode?” he repeated, and then a tired laugh escaped him, the kind that made the corners of his eyes crinkle despite how exhausted he looked.

“Yes,” you said immediately, doubling down instead of saving yourself. “Like one day you flex too hard and suddenly, boom. Property damage.”

Leon blinked a few times, like he genuinely could not believe what had just come out of your mouth, before staring at you with the most exhausted expression imaginable. “You know, most people worry about my job being dangerous.”

“Well I am worried about your arms becoming a national threat.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“It absolutely is.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, already regretting every decision that had somehow led him here. “You’ve been sitting there silently for an hour and this is what was happening inside your head?”

“You should be grateful I’m sharing my thoughts with you.”

“I really shouldn’t.”

You pointed dramatically at his arm. “Look at that! That should not legally exist.”

Leon glanced down at his own bicep like he was seeing it for the first time. “It’s literally just an arm.”

“It’s NOT just an arm.”

“It is attached to my body in a very normal way.”

“That sounds exactly like something a man with huge biceps would say.”

Leon barked out another laugh at that, shaking his head. “You are insane.”

“Yes, insanely in love with you.”

His laughter softened instantly at that, “…What?” Leon asked, sounding genuinely confused by what you had just said.

“Pretend I didn’t just say that,” you muttered quietly, suddenly finding the couch cushions very interesting.

Leon stared at you for a second longer before the corners of his mouth slowly lifted again. “If it makes you feel any better,” he said softly, “I’m insanely in love with you too.”

Your heart immediately started beating violently against your ribs at the confession, warm panic flooding through your chest all at once.

And just then, completely against your own will, your eyes drifted right back toward his arm again before you could stop yourself.

Leon noticed instantly.

“…Seriously?” he asked in disbelief. “God,” he muttered, staring at you now like he was witnessing a train wreck happen in real time. “You ACTUALLY want to touch them, don’t you?”

“I mean… not really?”

“Liar.”

Leon laughed louder this time. “You are unbelievable.”

“This is your fault.”

“My fault?”

“Yes. Why are they built like that?”

“I literally cannot control that.”

“Well, do something about it!”

“What am I supposed to do? Remove them?” Leon joked.

You squinted suspiciously at him.

Leon narrowed his eyes right back. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“…No reason.”

“That was the face of someone having a bad idea.”

“It’s not a bad idea.”

“It’s absolutely a bad idea.”

Without warning, you grabbed Leon's hand and pulled him down beside you on the couch, and despite the fact that he could have very easily resisted, he just let it happen, following your pull without a single complaint.

Leon immediately pointed at you accusingly. “No.”

“You don’t even know what I’m gonna say.”

“I know exactly what you’re gonna say.”

“…Can I take a bite out of your arms?” you finally asked.

Complete silence. Leon stared at you like this was the most absurd thing he had ever heard in his life, because he might have expected anything.. But this?

He definitely did not.

“You want to do what?”

“Just once.”

“You are insane.”

“They just look very biteable!”

“That is not a sentence a normal person says out loud!”

You were laughing now while Leon dramatically rubbed both hands down his face. “I fight bio-weapons for a living,” he muttered tiredly. “And somehow this is still the weirdest situation I’ve ever been in.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Leon.”

“No.”

“Leon.”

“No.”

You gasped dramatically. “Cruel.”

Leon tried to stay serious. He genuinely did. But then he looked at your ridiculously hopeful face, those beautiful innocent eyes, and visibly lost the battle. A long-suffering sigh escaped him. “…One bite.”

Your eyes lit up instantly. “I can?!?”

“One,” he warned, holding up a finger. “And if you break my skin, I’m going to bite back.”

“That’s fair, but I don’t have biceps,” you argued while dramatically flexing your arms in front of his face.

He laughed at that, and in that exact moment, before he could rethink his decision you grabbed his arm carefully and finally—

Chomp.

You bit it hard.

Leon froze completely like he didn’t even register the pain at first, which immediately made you glance up at him too. Then, very, very slowly, he looked down at you still attached to his bicep with the most offended expression imaginable.

“…Did you just fucking moan?!”

You immediately let go, horrified. “I DID NOT.”

“You absolutely did.”

“Fine! In my defense, they were tasty!”

“That is somehow worse!”

You finally pulled away from his biceps and collapsed into laughter against him while, your head resting on his shoulder, while Leon stared at you for another second before bursting into laughter too.

But even then, his other arm was wrapped automatically around your waist, pulling you closer against his side like it was pure instinct.

“…Worth it?” he asked tiredly.

You grinned against his shoulder. “Absolutely.”

“Now can I get back to work?” Leon asked, already sounding exhausted by your existence.

“You may not,” you replied immediately, holding his arms around you possessively.

Leon then let out a long, dramatic sigh like he was truly suffering, but despite all the complaining, he made absolutely no effort to escape your grip.

Instead, Leon simply settled even closer to you, gently pulling you tighter against his side before looking down at you and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, making you smile wider than you ever did.

“Fine.” He murmur softly, and finally lets himself melt into you.

Leon rubs at his tired eyes and reaches for his vibrating phone. It’s dark, his dingy motel room cloaked in night. He squints at the glowing screen, frowning when he sees what time it is followed by your contact. 

“Hello?” 

Shaky breaths fill the line. “H-hi.”

He pauses, breath stilling in his body as he tries to discern whether you’re jogging, crying or just very, very drunk. A poorly muffled sob answers his burning question.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t—” More sobbing, muffled movement, the jingle of keys. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry if I woke you. This is silly. I-I should just—”

He sits up straight in his bed, turning on the lap next to his bed. The soft yellow light flickers to life, illuminating the grimy walls of his room.

His tone is harsher this time, urging. “What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

The line goes quiet, silence broken only by your uneasy breathing. When he lets his eyes close, Leon can almost picture you rubbing your hands over your face the way you always do when you’re frustrated. It would almost be endearing if his concern wasn’t eating him alive.

He says your name softly, edging out some of that urgency.

“I miss you,” you say. “I miss you so much. And I can’t sleep.”

Leon’s shoulders drop from his ears. “You miss me?”

You hum, the sound wet and punctuated by your sniffling.

“I’ll be back soon.”

He blinks, rubbing the ends of his hair between his fingers. He’s never been good with his words, or at least, words that mean something. He knows he should say something else but his head is all full with sleep and the words refuse to come.

There’s a sound of disappointment, followed by, “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called.”

Leon opens his mouth to say something but then his phone is beeping, indicating you’ve hung up. He stares at the ‘Call Ended’ screen much longer than he should.

-

Sleep is even harder now, your bed doesn’t bring you comfort the way it does when Leon’s around. You’re not sure what you’d hoped to get by calling him, if maybe you thought just hearing his voice would soothe the ache in your chest.

It did the opposite, really. And though you know he was trying to reassure you, something in his tone was so dismissive it sent dread to the pit of your stomach.

You curl in on yourself, arms clenching your pillow like it’s the only thing keeping you afloat. You force yourself to take deep, slow breaths, and through your breathing, some of the pain begins to fade.

Your sleep comes sporadically, more small fits of unconsciousness than it is actual rest. You’ve tossed and turned so much that your sheets have become a tangled mess, keeping you confined to your bed like a prisoner.

Outside, snow has started to fall and the sky has turned white with its arrival. The light casts in your room, bright enough to have the backs of your eyes aching.

You roll over and just as you do, there’s a knock at your door.

Your heart jumps to your throat. It’s well into the night, encroaching more on daytime, and you’re entirely unsure who could be on the other side of that door.

You untangle yourself from the mess of sheets and slip your feet into your slippers, shuffling hesitantly out of your bedroom and down the hall. There’s another knock, more pressure behind it this time, and it successfully convinces you there must be some sort of police officer behind the door ready to give you some bad news.

You open the door without thinking and all the breath leaves your body at the sight of Leon. His hair is messy and littered with snowflakes, clearly combed with his fingers in a hurry, and his eyes are heavy with bags.

You stare. He stares back. Time around you seems to slow, the world stalling beneath your feet. 

And then he kicks the door shut and closes the gap between the two of you, his body falling over yours. His arms lock around your waist, squishing your figure against his. The sleeves of his jacket are damp with the snow, melting against the warmth of your skin. 

“I—” You bury your face into his chest and let his cologne wash over you, “you weren’t supposed to be back in town for another few days.”

He nods. 

You pull away only slightly, the ironclad grip he has on you barely allowing for movement. You blink up at him, lips parted in surprise.

“You came back.”

“You couldn’t sleep,” he says. “I didn’t know how else to help, so…”

You press a warm kiss to his cheek. “How did you get here so fast?”

He smiles sheepishly, “don’t worry about that. Now,” he gestures down the hall, “let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

You let Leon lead you down the hall like he owns the place, masterfully dodging the pair of socks you’d kicked off and have yet to pick up on the way to your room. 

He settles into your bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You’re slower to climb in next to him, hesitant to rest your head on his chest and your arm over his stomach.

He’s warm, his breaths steady and even and picking up for only a second when you first touch him. He pulls the blanket around the both of you, careful to tuck it under your arms just the way you like.

He kisses the top of your head. “Try and get some rest, yeah? Gonna have a long day tomorrow if you get no sleep.”

“Ugh, tomorrow.”

Leon chuckles softly, the sound growing butterflies in your stomach. Your eyes grow heavier, the sleep you’ve fought off for this long finally catching up to you. Leon traces circles over your back, the rhythmic beating of his heart lulling you to sleep.

Looking at your sleeping form, Leon’s not sure how he could ever leave again.

resident evil masterlist | masterlist

The clean shut of the door echoed through the hallway as you sat at the table, a mug of cold coffee in your hands.

You didn’t like the way it reflected your face.

“Hey, honey,” Leon greeted you, placing his keys and wallet on the table, next to the flowers you needed to change out of the vase.

“Good day at work?” You smiled at him, but the smile never sat right on your face. As if you had collaged a smile from a magazine and glued it straight onto yours.

“Yeah, you know. The usual. I saw Hunnigan actually, haven’t seen her in a while…” his voice trailed off, as he went off on one of his long tangents that he liked to coat you with when he got home. His dark leather jacket slipped off his arms and onto the chair, the cold outside air still woven into him.

The kettle boiled in the background, the clunk of a mug settling on the counter. That strong coffee smell that used to ease you filled the room.

Leon stood next to your chair, his hand holding his mug, his other hand slipping around the back of your head and pressing your face into his torso. His fingers threaded through your hair, rubbing in slow, soft circles. You never knew if he was trying to ground himself or it was only gentle affection.

His cologne only suffocated you, instead of making your shoulders relax and his shirt only made your face itch, rather than making a soft sigh fall out of your lips.  

Leon was always careful with his touch—gentle when most would press.

“You seem quiet, lately. Anything on your mind?” he asked, noticing your fingers slowly uncurling around your mug.

He also noticed the way you placed your cutlery down earlier than you used to, the extended time you spent in baths and the extra ten minutes you spent in bed before getting up.

“Just a bit tired,” you mumbled, your eyes stuck to the cold coffee. His fingers slipped from your hair and brushed under your jaw, thumb swiping your cheek and lightly touching your bottom lashes.

He hummed, holding your jaw towards him, his light blue eyes trying to pierce through the dull curtains that had drawn over yours. His thumb lingered, like he was waiting for you to lean into his touch, or for your eyes to lift and see him, but it never came. So, he gently tucked your hair around your ear before walking back to the fridge and beginning to prepare dinner.  

You wished he pushed more.

You were glad he didn’t.

There was no need in your body that told you to go get up and help your husband, slowness was swinging from every corner. The processes in your brain felt drained, like a wire had loosened, like everyone else had some far more advanced programming, and you were left in many updates ago. Everything required a manual thought, a process, a battle with your mind just to move.

Weeks had passed like this, with every day cementing that it wasn’t a passing feeling. Exhausting it was to have to fight with your brain to do anything, to move, to eat, to dress yourself. A deep ache buried itself in your chest, burdening your strenuous breathing, chipping away at you. Things only got darker, burrowed deep in a hole below yourself.

Getting up for work took longer, carelessly getting out until the last minute, any care to be on time was erased. Staring at the ceiling seemed to make time move quicker, imagining the days stretching out ahead of you, every day similar to the previous, the pointlessness of it all beating a tattoo into your mind.

Leon expected to see you at your desk, or making breakfast, or in your garden. He expected to hear your humming, tapping or sniffles. You didn’t like to waste the day, but when he peered around the door, you were still enclosed by your duvet, the curtains still drawn, pencils still untouched, clothes still folded at the end of your bed. His attempts to make you laugh didn’t evoke the same echoing giggle that erupted from you, instead they dissolved into a small smile. Reaching out for you at night had him holding onto something cold, and hardly present, nothing of the mumblings and shifting around him.

He placed dinner in front of you, the food steaming. You thought he shouldn’t have to deal with this after such an exhausting day at work, but he did it for you anyway. Complaining was never his thing, he just filed things away, and you hardly ever saw them boil through—even as his wife.

The fork felt wrong in your hands, the cold silver not warming, the small scratches glimmering under the light. Your eyes drifted up to Leon, his gaze rapidly shot back down to his plate, continuing to place the food into his mouth. Nothing about the meal made you hungry, in fact, it made you sick to even think about putting that in your body. Like your throat was going to catch it mid-swallow and throw it back up. But Leon was watching you like a hawk, so you mustered up the energy to scoop some up and force your mouth to close around it. You held back a grimace, your jaw stiff as your teeth strained against one another. Every ridge, every bump along the tops of your teeth was felt as you tore the food apart in your mouth, tongue curling up.

It was difficult understanding why your body was rejecting the one thing you needed the most.

Maybe it was because your mind hated you enough to want your body to starve—but you didn’t like that thought.

Watching his wife wilt away, Leon sat on the opposite side of the table. This wasn’t something he could fight with his hands. He was helplessly losing the smile on your face, your bubbly greetings, the warmth you gave him.

“What did you get up to today?” He asked, noticing your eyes battling with the plate in front of you.

“Not much,” you mumbled, fork resting against your plate.

“Didn’t go to work?”

“Too tired for that,” you shook your head, glancing up at him.

“Hey. Talk to me,” his arm reached out across the table, grabbing your hand, “You’ve been ‘too tired’ all week.”

You looked into his pale blue eyes, then back at his hand that was holding yours, “It’s nothing.”

He came home from life-threatening experiences, he shouldn’t have to deal with this.

“It’s not nothing,” he exhaled, his fingers tightening around yours, “I come home and you’re still in bed. You don’t eat. You don’t draw. You don’t laugh anymore.”

“I’m fine, Leon,” you insisted, your hand slithering out of his. This large weight began to form in your throat, petrifying you from letting it all crash down in front of him.

“I want to help you, but I can’t if you don’t tell me what is going on,” he said, firmer this time, his eyes darting across your face as if it was going to say all the words you couldn’t.

“It’s okay,” your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know,” you whispered, voice strained, feeling his eyes linger on you. Telling him would make it real. It would be known. Knowing Leon, he would take it too seriously, worry too much like he always does.

You didn’t want it to be real, because then you would have to deal with it.

“You can’t keep shutting me out,” he said, holding your hand again, his thumb rubbing small circles into your palm—to show you that the two of you were on the same level. He only wanted to understand. He’s your husband. Why are you purposefully making things harder for him?

“I’m not—“

“You are,” he cut you off, not unkindly, “Just… start small. I’m not taking ‘nothing’ as an answer anymore.”

Your lips pressed together, the last two blurry weeks suddenly crumbling on top of you, unfolding and revealing. This numbness had coated you for so long, days blended together, sleep was smudged, daylight blurred and evening muddled. You couldn’t draw the line between when things began or ended. When did this twisting pain emerge in your chest?

Leon watched your eyes stick to your plate, the stiffness in your body. He just wanted anything, the slightest movement, the smallest word—anything that would tell him you were still here.

“Hey. I get it if it’s hard to talk about,” he began, “I do. But you’re carrying it all by yourself.”

“I don’t know—“ your breath caught, fingers twitching in his, “I don’t know where to start.”

Trying to smooth your shaky breath, Leon stood up, and for a split moment, you thought he was leaving. It made sense. He had too much shit on his shoulders, facing death every day, losses and cruelty—coming home to you wasn’t something to look forward to anymore.

But he didn’t.

His chair scraped along the floor, your chest tightened in a sharp turn anyway, jaw tensing to stop the fractured sob coming out of your lips. When he walked over to you, it felt distant, far away, until he placed his warm hand on your head, stroking your hair until it was neat, letting silence envelope the two of you.

“Hey,” he said softly, almost a whisper, letting his hand rest, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Seeing his wife fold back into herself without a word spoken brought him to an anger he couldn’t name. He couldn’t blame himself; he couldn’t blame you; none of it was a fault that belonged to anyone. Your presence had become dust, what used to be was now haunting the house.

“What do you feel right now?” he asked quietly, no pressure laced in his words.

“Nothing...” you murmured, before remembering what he said about the word ‘nothing’, “I genuinely feel nothing… I can’t—everything feels like too much.”

You didn’t melt into his touch or hold him back, you just stayed ever so still. Like a stone. Leon lowered himself, crouching to meet you at your level, his eyes precisely on you.

“Does it feel heavy? Or empty?” he questioned, his hand firm on your shoulder.

“My…” you swallowed, trying to keep the stone in your throat, “My chest feels heavy.”

Looking at your husband felt like a death sentence, this new vulnerability that was exposed surpassed the vulnerability of being naked. To have him know all the ugly parts about you, not the ones that can be seen by the eye. Your true core.

“But… I—“ You stopped, your throat tightening. “I feel empty too. Like I feel too much… my body just becomes numb.”

Your fingers were stagnant on your lap, much like the rest of your static limbs attached to your cumbersome body. Heat was burning on your cheeks for some reason, your shoulders caving in, suddenly becoming increasingly aware of your breathing. It felt like sand was in your mouth the way it became dry after spilling those words, uncomfortable and gritty. The sinking feeling in your throat persisted and the stinging sensation continued to prick at your eyes.

“That makes sense,” Leon assured, his thumb rubbing into your shoulder, “…Can you look at me?”

It wasn’t instant. Your eyes slowly dragged up to his, like they were heavy too. But you were there. There was an expectation to see disgust on his face, or this attempt to understand you and missing it completely.

But his face was indifferent. Just a quiet patience. When your eyes finally met his baby blues, something in him loosened.

“I don’t know why this is happening,” you confessed, your voice breaking and splintering much like the pain in your chest. “I—I can’t make it stop, and every day I hope it goes away and it just persists— I can’t do it.”

A sob broke through, a sharp inhale, and overwhelming tears spilt onto your hands. The stone holding back the dam broke and your frame shook under the amount of pressure, shaking breaths and gasps of air. Your hands came up to hide your face, but Leon’s hand gently guided it down, his hand pulling your face into his chest as he cradled it, his other hand running up and down your back, soothing the wails and sobs leaving your mouth. They were loud and ugly, the kind that had been held down for weeks.

“That’s okay… just let it out,” he murmured into your hair, holding you tightly so you don’t slip from him. Your fingers curled around his shirt, using him as an anchor. “I’ve got you.” His voice was low and gentle, like his fingers stroking your hair.

“I just want to be me again,” you mumbled into his chest, the uneven rhythm of your breathing slowly beginning to decelerate. “I can’t do anything—” your words were breaking apart, “I’m just tired.”

You sunk even further into his chest, almost collapsing.

“I know honey. You’re doing really great telling me all of this right now,” he whispered, his fingers continuing to run a grounding path down your back. The two of you remained in silence, only your small sniffles filling the room and the quiet sound of his soothing hums.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” you sniffled, eyelashes clumped together and eyes puffy and red.

“Neither do I. But we can get through it together. I’m here for you,” he pulled away to look at your face, giving you a small smile, but you only drove yourself back into his chest and he leant his chin back onto your head.

Your body was completely disintegrated, trying to keep yourself afloat for so long. It was like someone had wrung you out, leaving you damp and exhausted. You wanted to keep fighting for him, for Leon. To prove to him that you weren’t completely a burden on his conscience.

“I’m going to have a bath,” you told him, accomplishment lingering in your words, pulling your head away from his chest.

“Yeah?” he raised an eyebrow, his hand sliding to your shoulder. His eyes were checking your face, ensuring you weren’t going to overwhelm yourself too quickly.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

He gave you a small hum and squeezed your shoulder. “Okay. Do you want me to run it for you?”

“I’ll be okay,” you assured, wiping your tears. He paused for a second before letting go.

“I’ll be out here if you need me.”

The bathroom was cold, the window was already open, allowing the evening air to seep into the room. You reached up and shut it before placing the plug over the drain and turning on the faucet. As the water splashed into the tub, you began to peel your clothes off. Catching your reflection in the mirror—you stared at yourself a little longer than you used to. Cheeks were hollow. Eyes red and puffy. An essence within you that had given up. Your bra cups weren’t full as they used to, and you noticed the bagginess on your underwear.

You dragged your eyes back to your bath, steam swirling into the air. It looked nicer than what you saw in the mirror. You unclasped your bra and let your underwear slip onto the floor before you let your foot dip into the water. It stung at first, and then it soothed. Your whole body enveloped into the water, and a soft sigh left your lips, leaning onto the cold walls of the tub. Maybe feeling clean would make you feel better, looking after yourself would change something. You expected to feel great, even proud of yourself for getting here, but it never came.

Why should you feel good about something that people do on a regular basis?

Watching your body ripple under the water, the heat of the tub numbed it for a little. The bitter stinging sensation felt good. You could finally physically feel what you had been feeling inside of your head.

The water lapped at the sides of the tub, soft and rhythmic, much like your breathing. It made your brain calm, like it had melted. Your body went slack, surrendering to the heat and your mind was wrapped in it, thoughts slow and sluggish, pulling you down with it.

Just for a moment, you thought.

Just for a second.

Your eyelids slowly closed, chest rising and dropping.

Something eased in him when you told Leon you were going to have a bath, but there was still concern buried underneath it all. He didn’t want to overcrowd you but neither did he want to let you fall apart—it was hard to balance between the two. The hum of the water trickling into the bath echoed into the kitchen, and Leon began to clean up the dishes. He told himself you needed this, it was good that you were doing something for yourself.

Five minutes passed. He thought nothing of it. Usually your baths were long, you always liked to unwind and relax your nerves in them.

Then ten. Then twenty. He paused the show he was watching, to hear anything—your humming, the trickle of water, splashing, anything.

Nothing.

A small crease formed between his brows, “Hey?” he called out from the couch, “You good in there?”

No reply. Maybe you didn’t hear him.

 He stood up, approaching the door of the bathroom, the light spilling out underneath. Something uneasy settled within his chest, he knew you had been quieter recently, but you always hummed to yourself in the bath. To hear silence like this began to make his stomach twist.

“Hun? Is everything okay?” he asked, a little firmer this time, his hand reaching for the handle.

Again, no reply.

“I’m coming in,” his hand pushed down, allowing himself through the door, steam clouding his vision for a second.

His chest lost any sense of regularity, like he had been shoved hard—your mouth only one shift away from slipping under the water. Your body had slid, head slack, resting against your shoulder, tipped forward enough to have your lips brush the water with every shallow breath.

“Hey—no, no, no—“

The words tore out of him as his knees instantly fell to the side of the tub, grabbing your shoulders, his fingers clamping around your jaw to force your head upright, hooking his other arm around you to pull you upwards and shaking you over and over. Water surged over the sides, drenching him, his clothes soaked.

“C’mon, not like this, wake up—“ his voice was shaking, his eyes darting all over you for any sign, any hope, just anything. His fingers slid to your neck to feel your pulse, something that was barely there, but it was something, faintly beating under his fingertips. Didn’t stop his heart from racing, didn't stop his inability to keep a steady breath and didn't stop the horrible nausea.

He began to pull you out of the water, resting your face against his shoulder, anything to get you away from the water, your body loose under his grip. Your name continued to rip from his mouth as water splashed onto the floor, tearing you from the water. Subtly stirring, Leon stilled, holding your chin up towards him.

“Wake up, please,” he shook you as he begged, unsure if he needed to begin compressions. Your eyelashes fluttered and your lips parted,

“…Leon?”

All the air crashed back into his lungs, his forehead dropping onto yours in utter relief. His body still racing and panicking.

“I’m here. I’ve got you,” he said, unable to mask the cracks in his voice. When your eyes finally opened, struggling to focus, you felt your husband’s breath fanning on your lips while leaning into you, his trembling hand running up and down your arm, like touch alone could keep him breathing. His clothes were soaked, droplets falling from the fabric and back into the water. He lifted his head back up, "C'mon baby, keep talkin' to me. I'm here."

Slowly piecing everything together, that aching feeling settled within your chest again and your brows knitted together. The warmth, the water, the way your body just decided to let go.

“I just—I closed my eyes for a second and—” you wanted you put your hand over his, but this heaviness was plaguing you and they only pathetically twitched on your lap.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he whispered, barely there at all, like his words were crumbling “You weren’t… you weren’t waking up.”

This sharp twist in your stomach stung without kindness, and you clamped your eyes shut. How could you do something so stupid so carelessly?

“Can you—” he shifted himself back, his hand still gripping your arm, “Can you sit up for me, honey?”

You nodded subtly and brought yourself up, your body slow and uncooperative, the steam circling around your head, eyelids heavy all over again. Leon caught this and shook your shoulder, “Hey—I need you to keep your eyes open.”

You had never depended on him like this before, you liked to do everything yourself. That’s just how you always did it, and Leon figured that out quickly after the numerous times where you would get snappy with him whenever he tried to help you with something.

Now you couldn’t even hold yourself upright properly.

Nodding again, Leon slid his arm under your knees and the other around your back, “That’s enough,” he muttered, more to himself than you, “I’m taking you out of this bath.”

The water sloshed around again, your body soaking him, and he placed you onto your feet.

“Leon,” you mumbled, leaning onto him. You noticed the floor rippling, reflecting the bathroom light, his grey socks now gone black.

“I’m here,” he held you around your back while his other hand grabbed a towel, never letting go fully, patting you down with a rough efficiency.

Guiding you into the bedroom, his hand remained like an anchor. Towel draped around your shoulders; a coldness seeping into your skin. Everything lacked warmth in the bedroom, the air, the sheets, the quiet.

“Sit,” he said, continuing to dry you with the towel, slower now, more deliberate, his hand still on you while he grabbed you some clean clothes, “Let’s get you warm.”

He dressed you with a gentle care, brushing your hair back with his fingers after he got your head through the jumper. Your posture was completely bent, your eyes rung with red and puffy. Totally worn from the inside and out.

“Just going to get out of these clothes, keep your eyes open for me, okay?” his thumb brushed your cheek before peeling his clothes off, hitting the floor with a wet thud. He grabs the towel and pats himself down before shoving something more comfortable on. Within his body was still an faintness of the rigid, alertness that was stricken within him since he saw you asleep in the tub. You knew it wasn’t going to go away for a while, unfortunately he was wired like that.

Leom didn’t come back to bed immediately, he stood there, his breathing began to soothe, but his shoulders were still tense under his fresh fabric and his hand was gripping the dresser, trying to come down from it. Damp hair stuck to his forehead and his jaw clenched tight, you saw it, even in your distant state.

“Leon…” you murmured, your fingers tight around the duvet, as if speaking to him took up all of your energy.

He came back immediately and crossed the room to sit by your side, his hand instinctively wrapping around yours. It took you a second but eventually your fingers curled around his.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you said, tightening your grip, “I just—one minute I was relaxed and then it was just like my body gave up—“

“I know you didn’t mean it,” he reassured.

“But I should’ve just stayed awake or realised—”

“Hey,” he cut you off, your lips pressed firmly together. His fingers reached out to your chin, gently guiding you to look at him, “I said hey.”

Your eyes dragged up to his.

“You didn’t do anything stupid. You passed out. That’s not your fault,” he reassured, his fingers returning to your shoulder, “But you can’t disappear on me like that.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, eyes dropping back to your lap.

“I know,” he exhaled, his chest easing, “Can you lie down for me?”

You nodded slowly and laid your back into the duvet, the bed an easy support. He laid down, allowing you to adjust yourself to rest against his chest before his arms held you close, hoping his warmth and love would absorb into you, and his wife would come back in all the colorful shades that she brought into his life.

“Don’t fall asleep yet. Just stay awake for me a little longer,” he whispered, squeezing your arm, his heart racing all over again.

“So sleepy,” you muttered, eyelids drooping.

“I know, but just a little longer for me, hm?” he pinched your cheek gently, “Talk to me. About anything.”

You sighed.

“Your hair is all wet,” your hand reached out to brush his floppy hair back, “Gonna catch a cold.”

He chuckled a little, his heart warming slightly at your playfulness and bringing you closer to him.

“I think that’s the least of our concerns," he whispered, his fingers reaching up to your neck to check your pulse.

This fic is a prequel to this one (where the wife is still healing years later, a lot more comforting than this angst fic lmfao)

with the obvious being said, he also knew how you got. restless tossing and turning, unable to sleep as the hours ticked by, randomly spouting your thoughts to him.

he had started in your arms–because yes, he liked being the little spoon after not seeing you. burn him at the stake for being such a lover boy if you have to.

and as p.m. turned to a.m., he had progressively gotten less in your arms. until now, curled in on himself but still facing you. you were already pouty about him not wanting to fall asleep in your arms–which he did, you were just too shifty for that right now–and he didn't want to risk making it worse by turning away.

"leon."

he let out a small sigh as your cold toes prodded his leg before hesitantly opening his eyes; he was a weak man after all. “yes baby?" he asked, voice gruff with unreached sleep.

"would you still love me if i were a worm?"

his heavy eyes blinked once, twice, and almost didn't open again the third time. despite the dark, he could hear the smile on your face.

"well...it would be pretty difficult to find a worm you feel a connection with, right?" his words were slow, not completely there, yet logistical. as always. "i just don't see how–"

"leon!"

he let out a small chuckle, "y/n. how would a worm–"

"we'd figure it out!" you exclaimed back, baffled by his daring to question you and your completely serious question. he could at least pretend to go along with it.

leon let out another laugh as you rolled away, facing away from him. you fought your own smile at the sound of his laugh, feigning annoyance at him.

his arms moved to wrap around your waist, pulling you back against him. "wait, i'm sorry. i was joking!"

he shifted a bit at your silence, moving to kiss your cheek in apology. "i'd love you even if you were a shrimp with no legs or arms."

he hated shrimp.

"so a stump?"

"yes, a stump. no matter what you look like, i promise i'll still be your boyfriend. even if they study me in a lab for it."

you were pleased with that–but you were also pleased with his attention. you shrugged a bit, just to keep him going a little longer.

he kissed your cheek again, leaning over you to reach your nose next. he peppered kisses all over your face, before eventually trailing them down your jaw.

"okay, okay," you giggled, gently pushing his face back.

leon pulled back a bit, but kept his head near yours, "you're not mad anymore?"

"i never was."

you turned in his arms to face him. he smiled at you and you reciprocated.

leon dipped his head, settling it in your hair and inhaling softly. on nights with his own insomnia, this would put him to bed. a soft memory, the distinct smell of you–of home, and the reassuring weight of his world situated in his hands.

"do you want to try to sleep again?"

you nodded, he gave a small nod back in acknowledgment. once your eyes had shut, he closed his as well, waiting for the sound of your breath evening to give him an assured moment to sleep. as he waited, he felt the familiar feeling of exhaustion gnawing on his bones again and his eyes were feeling heavier by the moment, even if they were shut.

"what if i were a cricket?"

leon groaned in response. you laughed.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖🦢 ִֶָ་࿐

re9:

vacation planning was a headache; hotels, tours, planes, clothing. it was tedious, but the turnout was always worth it.

your shoulder bumped leon's as you sat side by side, each browsing on your individual laptops. you had booked the plane tickets, so he was on airbnb duty.

one of your hands was resting on his forearm, tracing little shapes, as you scrolled through different tabs of online shopping. leon had a good sense of style when it came to most events except hot weather. that hawaiian shirt with too many colors and shapes chris had convinced him to buy haunted your relationship.

"what about this one?" he asked, turning his laptop towards you.

you examined the listing he was showing you, looking at the photos and details. "mmh, maybe not." you concluded. "i like the first option better. you know, private pool and all."

your eyes trailed from the screen to his face as you said the last part. you watched as he raised his eyebrows from behind his favorite pair of glasses, resting on his slightly scrunched nose. an old habit, one he'd carried from his rookie years when he concentrated.

"definitely noted." he turned back to his search with a small smirk.

you hummed, proud of yourself, before returning to your own scavenging. you scrolled through swim shorts for a while, before pausing on a pair with the ugliest shade of yellow you'd ever seen and two frogs.

"leon," you said, nudging his arm and showing him the shorts.

"hm?"

you looked up at him, grinning, "would you still love me if we were two frogs sitting on lily pads?"

his prolonged sigh was immediate. yes, the question was evolution from the worm version. but he was also getting too old for this.

"yes, sure baby." he responded. "whatever makes you happy."

"would you hop from pad to pad with me?"

he nodded, his fingers massaging his temple.

"aww," you cooed, inconspicuously adding the swim trunks to your cart before leaning up to peck his lips. his small frown softened into a smile immediately. "i'd catch flies for you so you don't break your back trying."

"how romantic." leon muttered back. he recognized the joke you were making about his age, but he was too focused on kissing you back to bother being offended.

he reached out to cup your face and pull you back for another, longer, kiss as you moved back.

"i love you, old timer." you teased, fixing his lopsided glasses. he rolled his eyes at the pet name, nipping at your bottom lip in retaliation.

"i love you too."

he leaned back in, possibly as a distraction, as he moved one of his hands from your face to your laptop keyboard. his eyes remained trained on you, but he moved the cursor around through his peripheral vision.

“you're still not getting those though, they're ugly."

“they’d look good on you.”

“no.”