🍎⚖️🌟

Your smile widened as you leaned over him, your gaze lingering on his sleeping face for a moment longer.

Then, overcome by a sudden wave of what could only be described as cute aggression, you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, letting your lips linger there briefly before pulling away.

A fond smile tugged at your lips, and you leaned in again, pressing another gentle kiss against the side of his temple.

He doesnt move.

So you kissed his cheek, and a giggle bubble up your chest. Then slowly you pressed your lips on his nose.

"God, Leon you're so pretty."

Then his jaw.

"My husband." You smiled and murmured against his skin.

Though still nothing, so you pulled back a bit, Leon wasnt making any noises except few snore that sounded way too fake.

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him, because he was way too still and there was absolutely no way Leon Kennedy slept this deeply.

Determined now, you gently brushed your fingers through his hair before trailing them down his arm, slowly tracing the muscles beneath his shirt.

Goosebumps rose over his body as his breathe deepens but he doesnt wake.

"Uh-oh you are gonna play this game, hm?" you whispered and poked his cheek.

He was still-still.

Then you cradled his face before squishing it slightly. Your eyes narrowed further at him and you playfully hum, “Guess I could bite him now.”

Finally, the corner of his mouth twitched upward, the skin around his eyes crinkling slightly even though he still refused to open them.

The moment you caught it, you immediately sat upright, a betrayed smile spreading across your face. "You're awake." you accused and in same breath you gasped dramatically. "You are a terrible actor!"

But still he plays pretend and lies still, then slowly sighing you lean closer to him, "Leon."

The next thing you knew, a strong arm slipped around your waist. You barely had time to let out a startled squeak before the world tilted beneath you.

In one smooth motion, Leon pulled you down onto him, and suddenly you found yourself sprawled across his chest. "Leon!" you yelped, gripping his shoulders as his laughter rumbled beneath you.

"You were saying?" He chuckles deeply, his words vibrating in your chest.

"You were pretending to sleep!"

"You kissed me like twelve times." Leon grins.

"You counted?"

"I counted every single one."

Your face immediately warmed, as heat spreads across your chest and the traitor only looked pleased with himself.

And you notice his one arm remained securely around your waist while the other settled behind his head. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, yet amusement danced inside them.

"You look very proud of yourself," you giggled, rubbing your chin lightly against his chest as you settled more comfortably on top of him. The motion only seemed to make his smug expression grow wider.

"I am." He mumbled.

"For what?"

"Catching you." Leon teased as he rubbed his chin across your hairs, making you giggle again.

Then as you gaze up at him, his smile softened a moment later, and his eyes slothfully locked on yours, like he was seeing something worth millions.

Your heartbeat stumbled at his softened reaction. "What?"

For a moment he simply looked at you. Then his hand came up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

His expression turned unexpectedly gentle and he whispers with a smile, "When I look in your eyes," he paused then takes a big deep breath before continuing, "I see the entire galaxy reflecting back at me."

Your breath get caught in your lungs again, "Wow."

The smug smile returned instantly on his face. "Wow?"

"You are so cheesy first thing in the morning," you teased, though your heart was already betraying you, drumming frantically against your chest as warmth spread across your face.

"I was being romantic," he pouted, his lips jutting out ever so slightly as he looked at you with exaggerated offense.

You mumbled against his chest. "Fine, fine... it made my heart stutter."

Leon chuckled softly at that before pressing a kiss against your temple.

Then he rested his chin lightly atop your head as you settled more comfortably against his chest. Your own chin found its place on his shoulder while his arms remained securely around you.

You stayed like that, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoing beneath your ear.

After a while, you glanced up at him and found his eyes closed, a peaceful expression settling across his features.

A small smile tugged at your lips at the sight. For all his toughness, Leon was an absolute softie when it came to you, and moments like these reminded you of that more than anything else.

For a while you just stayed there tangled in each other as morning sunlight continued to spill across the room.

While the blankets tangled between your legs.

You felt so comfortable lying on top of him that it genuinely felt as though you were resting on a cloud.

As the two of you gradually relaxed into the quiet of the morning, you tilted your head upward, your chin brushing lightly against his chest. "When did you wake up?" you asked, letting out a soft sigh against his skin as you looked up at him.

Leon didn't even open his eyes this time, instead he hummed and replied, "When you were staring at me."

You laughed shaking your head and lifted your head to look at him. "You were awake at that point?" you asked, disbelief and amusement slipping into your voice.

"You know when you stirred I though you were going to be awake and I can't sleep when you're not near me. Can't help it, baby," he said, his eyes softening as he looked at you.

A quiet sigh escaped you at his words, and you melted further against his chest, feeling strangely safe there, almost as if you were being held by an angel, instead of Leon.

The sound you made earned another kiss against your temple. Then Leon pulled you even closer against his chest, his arms tightening around you as though he had no intention of letting go anytime soon.

Absentmindedly, your fingers found his biceps, tracing lazy circles over them while you settled comfortably against him.

Neither of you made any effort to leave the warmth of the bed, content to remain tangled together in the quiet comfort of the morning. Because after all, some mornings were simply too good to rush.

5 am.

Usually you‘d pleasantly realize that you still have a few hours of sleep ahead of you and lay back down with that warm feeling in your stomach. Not today, though. Today you were plagued with nerves you‘d imagine Leon feels during one of his missions. The usual warm and comfortable feeling replaced with dread for the unavoidable you‘d have to face today - a university presentation.

Granted, it was a little silly. You know as much. You were also aware that it was ridiculous of your body to act like it‘s going through a second Raccoon-City incident. On the other hand, if rationalizing with yourself would‘ve helped with the anxiety, your suffering would‘ve stopped a long time ago.

A soft sigh escaped your lips. What now? You could try and sleep a little more. Then again you‘d been trying to sleep properly since 11pm with no luck. Everytime you finally fell asleep, you woke up 2 hours later in a panic. You tried to sleep again, but were instead stuck in that weird state where you‘re kind of sleeping but also not and you‘re permanently aware of the anxiety you‘re feeling.

Distracting yourself it is. You were just about to open Tiktok when a notification caught your eye.

„Good morning, sweetheart. Have a great day!“ Leon. Of course.

He was usually awake at that time of day due to his training. This week he was on vacation, so he’d probably be free to talk right now. An involuntary smile found it‘s way onto your face. I could talk to Leon, that would probably help. You were about to click on the notification, when you stopped yourself. Smile dropping slowly.

He knows your sleeping schedule. If you were to answer now, he‘d know something was amiss. He would ask if everything is alright and why you‘re awake. You would probably say you just had trouble sleeping but he would know better.  He‘d hear it out of your voice or just simply somehow know it and question you until you cave. Then you‘d have to explain to your bioterrorism fighting boyfriend who experiences the horrors biweekly that your body won‘t let you sleep because of a university presentation. In a rather small class as well.

So what now? You should probably just scroll away on Tiktok until it‘s unavoidable that you have to get up and get ready. Maybe I could pretend to be sick? Then I wouldn‘t have to go. You‘d really like to talk to someone right now. So you clicked on the chat. „Good morning my dear, have a great day, too!“

Gnawing on your lip you stared at the chat. Sure enough, not even a minute later the call notification popped up. You hesitated for a second. Should you really answer? Well, you had to. There was no going back really. If you didn‘t, he‘d worry and come straight to your apartment, meaning you‘d inconvenience him even more. 

„Hello Baby!“ Leon greeted cheerfully. He was slightly out of breath and from the birds chirping in the background you deducted that he was on one of his morning runs. 

There’s this effect Leon had on you that you’ve been observing for a while. He always manages to make your most vulnerable side appear, wether he intends to or not. So, of course the sound of his voice made you immediately tear up. You didn’t even realize that you wanted to cry. How silly. 

Take a deep breath.

Don‘t sound shaky, don‘t sound shaky, don‘t sound shaky.

„Good Morning, Leon.“ That wasn‘t so bad.

„What‘s wrong?“

Oh, damn you.

You could practically hear the frown in his voice. It would endear you if you weren‘t so awfully embarrassed about yourself. 

„Nothing, why? Are you on your run right now?“ You tried to make your voice sound more cheerful, but Leon was in a sense like a tracking dog. Once he‘s sniffed out a trace, he doesn‘t let go of it.

„What‘s wrong?“ You sighed. „It‘s- It‘s nothing, Leon. Really. It‘s kinda silly.“ Leon hummed. You could hear how he stopped to pause from his run. 

„Did you have a nightmare again?“ Oh, of course. That‘s where his mind would go first. The actual traumatizing, life changing event you had lived through, not public speaking. Now you felt even more ashamed. „Want me to come over?“ He offered so earnestly. Your Heart soared a little. Your embarrassment grew even deeper. You would really like for him to come over, though, you realized.

„No, no nightmare.“ You swallowed. Why did your voice grow even more shaky all of a sudden? Why did your body betray you so? You didn‘t even react like that when your old university city suddenly got flooded with the undead. You were even much more confident talking to Leon back then. Why did a presentation have to make you shut down so greatly?

„I- it‘s- Leon it‘s really silly, but please don‘t laugh.“ You sounded on the verge of tears. Maybe this was a mistake. You should‘ve just suffered in silence until it was over and then shut away in your room until the anxiety ebbed away. Then you could spend the evening with Leon like nothing happened. But now you involved him, so there was no backing out of it anymore. You felt utterly embarrassed.

„I would never laugh.“ You could hear the slight alarm out of his voice. Great. Now You’re embarrassed, ashamed, anxiety ridden and felt guilty for worrying your boyfriend. „So, um-„ you started, trying to find the right words. „There‘s this presentation today that I have to do and-„ you cut yourself off, not sure how to continue. The other side of the line stayed quiet as you tried to find the right words. Oh no, he was probably judging you.

The unbearable urge to explain yourself washed over you. „I- I know it sounds silly, Leon and if I had a say in this I would just sleep like I normally do and go to university like I normally do but, but- I- I can‘t help feeling this way I really can‘t. I‘m shaking and my stomach is hurting and I feel like throwing up and I seriously considered dropping out to avoid this the last 3 days and-„

„Can you open the door for me, Baby?“

You blinked. „W-what?“

„Please open the door, I would like to sit down my feet are hurting a little.“ He smiled softly while saying that, you could hear that.

You hurried to open the door and sure enough, there he was. He was a little sweaty and out of breath but he had the same lopsided smile on his face he usually has and had such a soft look in his eyes and most importantly he was here. To comfort you with your ridiculous problem.

At first your lip started to quiver. You tried to find words, but all speech has abandoned you. Then tears welled up in your eyes. You tried to blink them away at first. Your vision just grew more blurry. 

You lost yourself. A sob escaped your mouth. A heartbreaking sob as it seemed, as Leons face immediately contorted in pain.

„Oh, my girl.“ He said under his breath and immediately pulled you in for a hug. Leon hushed you quietly, rubbing your back slowly as he shuffled inside and closed the door. Your hands clamped down on his shirt. 

„I- I‘m sorry. I don‘t even know why I‘m reacting so strongly.“ You hiccuped. „I- I‘m just so scared, Leon. Isn‘t that silly? I saved you from that weird hat guy in Raccoon City but am too scared to talk in front of people.“ Leon gently maneuvered you back to your bedroom.

„So first of all,“ he started as he sat you down on your bed. „I saved you a lot of times, too. Besides, I had that under control.“ You let out a little scoff, your lips forming a slight smile. Leon knelt down in between your knees, softly placing a hand on your cheeks. „Second of all, you have nothing to be sorry for. I have weird fears, too.“

He paused for a moment „I can‘t drive in the rain without panic, for example.“ He laughs slightly at himself, as if to make light of his fear and you couldn’t help but to frown. 

„But that‘s because of Raccoon City. That‘s not silly. You have a valid reason for that.“

„Yeah, but your fear stems from somewhere too, doesn‘t it? You have it for a reason as well.“ His thumb gently stroked along your cheek. Your first instinct was to disagree. To argue, that that‘s not comparable at all, but he didn‘t let you speak. „Regardless, I keep driving even though it rains and you’ll be able to present even though you‘re scared.“ Your hands clenched into fists. Everything in your body wanting to reject his trust in you. „But what if I do it badly?“

„Doesn‘t matter. You‘ll have done it and that‘s something to be proud of in itself.“ You couldn‘t bare to look into his eyes anymore. He really did believe in you. He really shouldn‘t. „I don‘t know, Leon…What if I can‘t do it?“

„Then you tried and the next time will work for sure. That‘s also something to be proud of. I will be proud of you, anyway.“ You could see his eyebrows furrow from the corner of your eye. He moved his head to be in your line of sight again. „Come on, you‘re my brave girl, aren‘t you?“ His smile, so earnest and bright, replaced the cold and dreading feeling in your stomach with warmth. You even managed to smile a little as well. Maybe you really were able to do it. 

„There you are!“ He practically beamed. „And after you‘re done, we‘ll have a nice day, full of stuff you want to do.“ He promised. „Even do a lord of the rings marathon while eating like a hobbit?“ You teased. Leon groaned playfully. „Yes even that.“

„Then I guess I‘ll be brave.“

——————

You were brave. At least the whole walk to your university you were. Leon offered to drive you, but you knew he had other stuff to do and you wanted to clear your head anyway. It worked surprisingly and for a short moment you were convinced that everything wouldn‘t be so bad.

That stopped the moment you sat down in class. The reality hit you again and regret started seeping in. You should‘ve called in sick.  No, you thought, then I would‘ve just shoved the problem back. So you had to be brave. 

Be brave. Be brave. Be brave.

It was a disaster. In your eyes at least. You kept shaking, sweating and stumbling over your words. So, once class was finally over you were feeling even worse than this morning. 

It‘s fine, you told yourself, it‘s over now. You’ve done it. The day could only go better now.

And then it started raining out of nowhere on your walk back home. Not just raining, no, pouring. It wasn‘t supposed to rain. You didn‘t bring anything with you to shield you from rain. You were completely soaked through after 5 minutes. 

Still shaken up from the presentation and upset over the sudden rain you didn‘t notice the branch blocking your way, which then resulted in you knocking your head against it. Hard. Awesome. 

Your vision blurred for a moment. Instinctively your hand shot up and returned with your fingers dyed red. In disbelief you watched as the rain washed the blood from your fingers. 

Just get home, you thought, just get home and it‘ll all be fine.

As you were waiting for the traffic light in front of your apartment complex to turn green, a truck passed you by. Still dazed from the hit on your head you forgot to step back as he drove through the puddle right in front of you. The water suddenly pouring over you made you flinch back, snapping you back into reality. You really wanted to cry. 

So here you there, in front of your apartment door, hands shaking too hard to even be able to open it, tears streaming down your face along with a lone trail of blood. 

Suddenly the door opened and you flinched. 

„Oh, Baby.“ Looking up you’ve found yourself face to face with Leon, his face completely laced in worry. „I‘m so sorry, I just came back from doing errands and wanted to come pick you up.“ He moved closer, seemingly to hug you, but you stepped back. „Don‘t, I don‘t want to get you wet.“ You muttered, looking back down at the floor. Hopefully he doesn‘t see the wound.

His shoulders slumped, you realized through the corner of your eyes and just imagining the kicked puppy face he currently had made your heart hurt a little. You couldn‘t bare any of this any longer. You just wanted to hide away in your room for the rest of the day.

You tried to squeeze past Leon and even though he let you in he grabbed your arm gently to keep you from hiding from him. „Talk to me, what happened?“ 

The tears were streaming freely down your face now. „I- I was trying to be brave I really was, Leon.“ He studied your face. His eyes widened as he looked at your forehead. „You‘re bleeding!“ Immediate alarm went through his body. A hand cupped your jaw to keep you from moving as he used the other to keep the hair out of your face, studying the wound intently. 

„I hit my head.“ You murmured. Leon took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. The last thing you needed was him panicking as well. „Alright, it‘s alright. I‘ve got you now. Let‘s get you dry and take care of that wound, sweetheart.“

His hand gently grabbing yours, he lead you towards the bathroom and sat you down on the toilet. „Alright.“ He said more to himself as to you. He rummaged through the cabinets, retrieving a towel. „Here, dry yourself off, I’ll be right back.“

You stared at the towel on your lap, but couldn‘t bring yourself to move. Why did everything always have to go wrong for you? Why couldn‘t a single thing just simply work out for you? Were you cursed?

Leon came back with a set of clothes and paused in the doorway. 

You only realized he was calling your name when he was right in front of you, his warmth snapping you out of it. „Come on, let me help you. Lift your arms. We need to get these clothes off of you before you get a cold.“ You did as he told. The whole process was a daze for you. Before you could really process everything you were wearing a set of fresh and warm clothes. Leons clothes, you realized. The ones you kept in your closet for him. They still smelled a little like him. 

He was currently using the towel to gently dry your hair. „Is this alright?“ He asked. He‘s so sweet, you thought, so sweet and gentle. Tears welled up in your eyes once more. You didn‘t deserve this.

„I‘m sorry, Leon.“ You croaked out. The gentle tug on your hair stopped. His face suddenly appeared in front of yours. „Don‘t say that. You have nothing to be sorry for.“

His eyes fell on the wound on your forehead again. „Let‘s get that taken care of and then watch lord of the rings.“ He disappeared for a second once again, returning with the first aid kit you usually keep for him.

„This will sting a little, but I‘ll be quick. I promise.“ 

You flinched as he disinfected the wound and he hushed you gently. „I know, I know, I‘m sorry.“ Then, with one quick motion he put a wound pad on it. 

„There, all done!“ He exclaimed all proud. Your hand reached up again, feeling around the Pad. Your eyes softened „Thank you.“

He extended a hand towards you. „Come on, then. Movie Time. And we have some food waiting for us. 

Your Hand, still slightly shaking, grabbed his and he pulled you to your feet. He‘s so warm. You found your bedroom already set up for the first movie. Leon laid down, petting the spot next to him.

Cuddling up to him you feel warmth spread across your body. The shaking slowly subsiding. Leon put an arm around you to pull you closer.

„Thank you, Leon. Really. I‘m sorry I was acting so si-„

Across the room, Sammy sat on the floor surrounded by toy dinosaurs, completely absorbed in a battle between a T-Rex and what was supposed to be a Triceratops but had somehow acquired wings. You pointed at your phone. “Look.“ Against your husband's better judgment, he leaned closer. A video played on the screen: parents sitting at a table, with cookies and a child. A simple little experiment. Leon watched in silence. Then another video started, and another, and another. Each one followed the same pattern. A child was given two cookies, and one parent got one cookie, the other got none. The parents waited to see what the kid would do. Some shared, some didn't, some dramatically sacrificed their own cookies. The comments underneath were filled with people crying over how sweet their children were.

You looked up at Leon expectantly. Leon stared back in complete disbelief. “No.“ You gasped. “We haven't even tried it.“ You said. “We are not using our child as a science experiment.“ Leon said firmly. “It's not a science experiment.“ You scoffed. “It absolutely is.“ He added, putting on his glasses once again, ready to keep working. You sat up straighter. “It's parent science.“ Leon pinched the bridge of his nose. “That's not a thing.“ He said, removing his glasses again. “It is now.“ He already knew he'd lost. The problem wasn't the idea itself, the problem was that once you got excited about something, you became impossible to stop. Like that day you insisted on getting ice cream after shopping when you were still pregnant. Like that day you convinced a federal agent to drive three hours for a specific brand of ice cream because you suddenly decided you wanted to try it. And yes, he was that federal agent. Leon still wasn't over that. “Come on,” you said, nudging his shoulder. “Just one video.“ You begged. “No.“ “Please.“ “No.“ “Leon.“ “No.“ You pouted. A weapon he had unfortunately developed a severe weakness ages ago.

Across the room, Sammy looked up from his dinosaurs. “Mama?“ You immediately switched targets. “Sammy, sweetheart, do you want cookies?“ The reaction was instantaneous. The dinosaurs weren't as interesting as they used to be anymore when your son launched himself to his feet, leaving them abandoned across the carpet. “Cookies?“ Leon closed his eyes. Of course, he would have to fight his son AND you. You looked at him triumphantly. “You see? He's interested.“ You said proudly. “Yeah, because he's five and you just offered him a treat.“ He sighed. “Exactly.“ You added clapping with a victorious grin. “That's not helping your argument.“ You were already getting off the couch. The discussion was over on your end. Leon recognized the signs immediately. He watched you disappear into the kitchen while Sammy followed behind like an eager little duckling. A few moments later, he heard the unmistakable sound of the cookie jar opening. Then, there was excited giggling. Then your voice. “Don't eat them yet!“ Leon sighed heavily. He already had a terrible feeling about this. Unfortunately, years of experience told him that whenever both you and Sammy looked excited about something, he was usually the one who suffered for it.

Leon should have walked away when he still had the chance. Instead, a few minutes later, he found himself sitting at the dining table while you fussed over camera angles like a professional filmmaker preparing for an award-winning documentary. “This is ridiculous.“ He said, leaning back on his chair and crossing his arms. “It's not ridiculous.“ You scoffed, still trying your best to capture the best angle. “It is.“ You ignored him as usual. The phone was propped up against a mug on the counter, pointed directly at the table. After adjusting it for what felt like the tenth time, you finally stepped back and nodded to yourself. “Perfect.“ Leon looked at the setup. Then at you. Then at the setup again. “You're taking this way too seriously.“ You gasped dramatically. “This is important.“ You said. “It's just cookies.“ Leon huffed. “Exactly.“ Across from you, Sammy sat in his chair, swinging his legs impatiently. “Mama, I'm hungry.“ He said. “Just a second, baby.“ The moment you turned around, Sammy immediately tried to reach for the jar with cookies. Leon caught the small hand before it got there. “Nice try.“ Sammy grinned. The exact same grin Leon saw in the mirror every morning. A fact that became more terrifying every year.

You returned carrying the cookies and carefully arranged them on the table. Two cookies in front of Sammy, one cookie in front of Leon, and nothing in front of you. Then you hurried back to the phone. Leon looked down at the messy arrangement. Then at your empty spot. Then back to the cookies. “You know he's going to give you one, right?“ He whispered, as if he was trying to keep a secret from your son. “Maybe.“ You smiled. “No, definitely.“ You raised an eyebrow. “You're his mom.“ He added. “So?“ You said, leaning a little against him, voice still low. “So he's obsessed with you.“ You laughed. “He's obsessed with you, too.“ Leon snorted. “He's started being more obsessed with you lately.“ You frowned at him. “That's not true.“ You scoffed. “You literally can't go to the bathroom without him standing outside the door like a bodyguard.“ His voice was no longer low. “If Mama disappears, I will protect her!“ Sammy nodded seriously. You burst out laughing. Leon pointed at him. “See?“ You kept laughing. “Okay, fair.“

You finally settled into your seat. The phone continued recording. Everything was ready, the experiment could begin. Sammy looked between the three places at the table. Then at the cookies. His little brain was clearly already working overtime. You exchanged a quick glance with Leon, trying not to smile, trying not to influence the outcome. Failing miserably as well. “Okay, Sammy.“ You said. His blue eyes immediately snapped to you. “You can have the cookies. But mama doesn't have any.“ The words had barely left your mouth before he looked down at the table again. His gaze landed on the two cooking in front of him, then on Leon's single cookie, then on your completely empty spot. The kitchen suddenly became very quiet. You held your breath. Leon leaned back in his chair, already convinced he knew exactly how this was going to go. There was no way his son wouldn't share. Especially when you were sitting there with nothing. Sammy stared at the cookies for another few seconds. Thinking, calculating, plotting. And something about the look on his face made Leon's confidence begin to fade slowly because he knew that expression. It was the same one Sammy got right before doing something that technically made sense but absolutely shouldn't have worked. “Oh no,” Leon muttered. You glanced at him. “What?“ Leon kept his eyes on his son. “He's plotting.“ He said quietly. “That's the whole point.“ You answered confused. “No.“ Sammy continued staring at the cookies, completely silent, completely focused. Like a tiny criminal mastermind preparing a heist. And suddenly Leon had a very bad feeling about where this was going.

For a moment, nobody moved. Sammy remained completely focused on the cookies in front of him, his eyebrows furrowed as if he were solving an advanced mathematical equation instead of deciding what to do with the three baked goods. The silence stretched. You and Leon exchanged another glance, and then another. And despite his earlier concerns, he found himself slowly relaxing because this started to look promising. Sammy's gaze slowly shifted from the cookies to you. You tried very hard not to react. Very, very hard. The tiny hopeful smile threatening to appear on your face certainly wasn't helping. Then Sammy looked at Leon, then back at you, his expression softened. And immediately your heart melted. “Oh, look at him.“ You whispered. Leon smiled. “Yeah.“ You were both already imagining how this would end. Sammy giving you one of his cookies to you, maybe even offering Leon one too. The kind of sweet moment parents saved forever and showed their children years later to embarrass them. Proof that they had once been tiny, adorable little humans. The comments on TikTok would have loved it. Not that you were planning on posting it, but still.

Sammy looked down again, and one small hand hovered over the table. You could practically see the decision being made. “There you go, buddy.“ Leon encouraged softly. The hand moved slowly towards the cookies. You felt your chest squeeze. God, he was so cute. Every time you looked at him, it felt impossible that something so wonderful had somehow ended up being yours. Across the table, Leon looked just as emotional. Neither of you was prepared for what came next. Because from every possible angle, it looked like he had decided to share. The little hand reached out confidently without any doubt, without a single sign of guilt. And both of you and Leon smiled, still certain you knew what was about to happen. You were wrong. Very, very wrong.

The moment arrived. Sammy's hand shot forward. You smiled, Leon smiled, the camera kept recording, and everything was going exactly as expected. Right up until it wasn't. Because instead of reaching for one of his cookies… Sammy reached for Leon's. The smile immediately disappeared from Leon's face. “…What?“ You blinked. Sammy grabbed the cookie sitting in front of his dad and pulled it towards himself. Leon stared, and so did you. Sammy stared at the cookie. Apparently, only one of the three people at the table understood the plan. “Buddy?“ Leon said cautiously. Sammy ignored him, his tongue sticking out of his mouth out of pure concentration. The cookie was now safely in his possession, and somehow, Leon's bad feeling only got worse. “Oh my God,” you whispered, already starting to laugh. “No, no, no.“ Sammy carefully held the cookie with both hands, then, with his tongue still out, crack. The cookie broke cleanly in half. The room fell silent. Sammy looked down at his work, satisfied, then he picked up one half and placed it in front of you. You immediately slapped a hand over your mouth. Because there it was. The sharing, the sweet moment, the proof that your son had a generous little heart. Except, before either of you could say anything, Sammy picked up the second half and placed it in front of Leon. Leon looked at the half-cookie with a miserable expression. Then at Sammy. Then, at the two untouched cookies still sitting in front of the little boy.

The realization hit all at once. You saw it happen in real time. The exact second Leon understood. Sammy hadn't shared his cookies, not a single one. Instead, he had taken Leon's cookie, broken it in half, distributed the pieces, and, somehow, managed to keep both of his own. The room remained silent for about three solid seconds. Then you completely lost it. A snort escaped your chest first, then another. Then suddenly you were bent over the table laughing so hard tears immediately started forming in your eyes. “Oh my God-.“ You couldn't even finish your sentence. Leon continued staring at the evidence. The two cookies, the half-cookie, and his son, who looked extremely proud of himself. Like he'd just solved world hunger. “There,” he announced proudly. You laughed even harder at the sound of his convinced, tiny voice breaking the silence. Leon slowly looked up. “Sammy.“ The boy beamed. “Yeah?“ Leon took a second to continue. “You took my cookie.“ Sammy nodded. “And then broke it.“ Another nod. “And gave half to Mama.“ Sammy frowned as if it was obvious. “And half to me.“ Sammy nodded one last time, slower. Leon blinked, trying to understand how he'd somehow been robbed by his own 5-year-old son.

Across the table, you were practically crying. The phone was still recording every second of it. And somehow that made it even funnier. Because from Sammy's perspective? The problem had been solved perfectly. Mama had a cookie, Papa had a cookie, and Sammy still had two cookies. Everyone won. At least, according to him. Leon, however, was beginning to suspect that his son might actually be a tiny Kennedy after all. You were still laughing, not the cute kind of laughing, nor the polite one. It was the kind of laugh where your stomach hurt, and tears were running down your face while you desperately tried to breathe, and demonic sounds came out of your chest. On the other side of the table, Leon looked personally betrayed. “Buddy.“ Sammy looked up from one of his cookies and hummed quietly in response. “That's not how sharing works.“ The boy blinked, clearly confused. “Why?“ You immediately buried your face in your hands. Leon pointed at the cookies. “Because you didn't share your cookies.“ Sammy followed the gesture, his gaze landed on his two cookies and then on the halves in front of his parents. And finally, he looked back at Leon. “But you got a cookie.“ He defended. “A half cookie.“ Leon argued. “Still cookie.“ You choked, actually choked. A noise somewhere between a laugh and a dying gasp escaped you. Leon slowly turned towards you. “This isn't funny.“ He narrowed his eyes at you as you kept trying to recover your breath. “It absolutely is.“ You said, wiping more tears from the corner of your eyes. “It's not.“ Leon said like a sulking kid. “It is.“ Sammy nodded. “Thank you, baby.“ You said.

Leon looked back at his son, determined to make him understand. “Okay, let's try again.“ Sammy took a bite of his cookie. Listening politely, or at least pretending to. “If you share something, you're supposed to give away some of your food.“ Sammy chewed, swallowed, and thought about it. Then pointed at the half-cookie sitting in front of Leon. “You have cookie.“ Leon stared. The kid wasn't technically wrong, which somehow made it worse. “That's because it was my cookie.“ Another bite, another chew, another few seconds of thought. Then Sammy shrugged. “Not anymore.“ You immediately doubled over laughing again. Leon dropped his head into his hands. The betrayal, the audacity, the flawless logic. It was unbearable. From his seat, Sammy happily continued eating his cookie, completely unbothered by the fact that he'd just dismantled every argument his father had tried to make. Finally, Leon looked back up. “You know what the worst part is?“ You were still giggling. “What?“ He pointed directly at Sammy. “He's going to be a nightmare when he's older.“ Sammy grinned. The exact same grin Leon had. You noticed it immediately, so did Leon. The realization hit both of you at the same time. Sammy's smile widened, and suddenly, Leon understood why everyone spent years apologizing for the things he'd done as a kid. Because karma had finally arrived, and it was sitting across the table eating cookies.

By this point, the experiment had completely fallen apart. You were still laughing, Leon was still trying to recover from being legally and emotionally robbed, and Sammy was happily working his way through his cookies like nothing unusual had happened. The phone continued recording from the counter, capturing every second of the little chaos. “You know,” Leon said, pointing accusingly at his son, “most kids would've given one of their cookies to their mom.“ Sammy took another bite. “Mm.“ “That was what the game was.“ Another bite. “Mm.“ “You understand that, right?“ This time, Sammy nodded. “Yeah.“ Leon blinked. “You do?“ Sammy nodded again. “Then why didn't you do it?“ Sammy looked at him as if the answer was obvious. “Because then I only have one and I'm hungry.“ You immediately snorted. Leon stared at the ceiling. Of course, that was the reason. The terrifying part was that it made perfect sense from a five-year-old's perspective.

Sammy finished chewing, then looked between the two of you. His little head tilted slightly as if he'd suddenly noticed that Leon was still sulking. The dramatic sigh that followed was pure Kennedy. “Oh, come on!“ Leon complained. Sammy glanced down at the cookie in his hand, then at you, then at Leon. For the first time all evening, he actually seemed to consider giving up one of his own cookies. You and Leon watched in surprise. Maybe there was hope after all. Slowly, Sammy broke off a tiny piece, a ridiculously tiny piece, barely a crumb. He placed it in front of you. Then broke off another equally pathetic piece and placed it in Leon's hand. “There.“ At this point, you couldn't handle it anymore. Leon looked down at the microscopic offering. “Wow.“ Sammy smiled proudly. “Now I shared my cookie.“ He said, completely convinced. “That's a crumb.“ Leon complained. “It's cookie.“ The confidence alone was impressive.

you however are busy helping a client. an older woman whose dress had ripped in three different spots. she said her grandchildren had gotten ahold of the dress, and wanted to make it “stylish.”

you don’t mind though, because the kind woman even brought the original design for the dress, making it easier to fix it.

the woman is chatting to you, about her husband. she says he’s always ignoring her and constantly drinking. you feel bad for the woman, no one should feel overlooked.

the doors bell rings, announcing someone has entered. you don’t look up, focused on not only the woman’s dress, but her feelings on her husband.

the older woman has her shoulder tapped on, she looks behind her to find a man. he’s tall with dark hair and tired eyes.

be gives the woman a small smile, “is this the line to talk to the pretty tailor?”

the woman gasps, “oh my!”

you look up, it’s your husband. “hi hon,” you smile at him, causing him to tilt his head, “what are you doing here?”

he brings a suit in front of him to see, careful not to hit the older woman with it.

“size to big.”

you raise an eyebrow, “you didn’t want to return it?”

he laughs shyly, “well, this gives me an excuse to visit my gorgeous wife.”

you shake your head at his corny response, while the elder woman giggles. “young lady you didn’t tell me you were married as well! and here i was complaining about my husband when i could have been hearing about this charming young man!”

your cheeks warm at the attention, “i really don’t mind hearing you talk miss kiyoko.”

“my wife is too quiet sometimes. even at home she’d rather hear me talk. although, if i’m being honest, hearing her is the highlight of my day.”

miss kiyoko awes at the confession, “why couldn’t i have met someone like you when i was your age?! i wouldn’t be stuck with my deadbeat husband!”

hiromi furrows his eyebrows in confusion, “may i ask why you’re still with him ma’am?”

the woman doesn’t say anything, she looks like the question confuses her. hiromi thinks he might’ve offended the woman.

before he can apologize, “i’m still with him because he’s the only constant in my life. yes i have my kids and grandkids, but i’ve known my husband for sixty seven years. if i’m being honest, if i left him, i don’t think i could ever truly be myself.”

and honestly, that scares hiromi. what if one day you feel to co-dependent to leave him? you only feel obligated to stay with fun for the sake of “being yourself”. he starts to sweat a little, he’d rather die than make you feel that way.

you must know what he’s thinking, because you’re looking right at him. your face shows nothing, i mean, you normally don’t, but right now it’s scaring him.

but then, his fear fades whenever you shake your head. assuring him that, no, you don’t ever feel that way with him. he feels like he can relax a bit, he’ll have to talk to you whenever you guys get home.

“ahh, but enough about me, while we wait for my dress to finish, tell me something. tell me all the details about the two of you.”

“how nosey miss kiyoko.”

she looks your way and slaps the top of your head gently, “i liked it better when you just listened!”

you laugh at the theatrics of the woman. “what do you want to know miss kiyoko?” you ask.

she thinks about it, looking at hiromi, “how did the two of you meet? and when should i expect to see you pregnant.”

hiromi flushes at the woman, cheeks red. you shake your head, laughing, “nosey AND invasive miss kiyoko. do i need to kick you out?”

miss kiyoko rolls her eyes, “don’t be coy,” she says your name, “you talk about kids all the time. i just didn’t know you had a husband who could do that for you.”

rolling your eyes, laughing at the woman, “we met when he was in law school and i was working part time as a librarian in the school.”

hiromi smiles at the reminder, “don’t water our meeting down hon. tell her the truth.”

you feel your cheeks warm in embarrassment. when you were younger, you were a lot more outspoken and loud. you still speak out when needed, but you more or less keep to yourself.

hiromi keeps on, “she was working when she saw me studying. she came up to me and demanded i give her my number. when i asked why i would do that, she told me that she liked my face and would be a crime to not to go out with her. claiming, ‘a lawyer committing a crime won’t look good for clients.’ i knew it then i wanted her in my life.”

miss kiyoko is so tickled at the news. she just laughs and pats your head while you look down in embarrassment.

hiromi on the other hand, is proud. he’s proud to be your husband. spending the rest of his life with you is the only thing that matters to him. he watches as miss kiyoko teases you, he smiles as you retaliate her teasing, ‘i’m going to rip this dress!’ you threaten. miss kiyoko scolds her finger at you, ‘we’ve known each other for years and you kept everything interesting a secret!’

he laughs at your offended face.

that night, hiromi confronts you.

the two of you are lying down together, him holding you in his arms.

“i don’t ever want you to feel scared to leave me.” he whispers while you’re on the verge of sleep.

“huh?”

“it’s just that miss kiyoko won’t leave her husband of fear of not being herself. i don’t want to become her husband, and i don’t want you to become her.”

you look at hiromi, whose already looking at you.

you laugh, pecking his lips.

“you are so cute!”

“i’m being serious!”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

This might just be the worst feeling ever.

You'd been looking forward to enjoying your tea when the first sip ruined it for you. You knew you'd get sick the moment you swallowed and felt that slight, irremediable feeling of dryness in the back of your throat—promising at least a week of uncomfortable coughing and sniffling.

That was a couple days ago.

Now you're curled up in bed, every joint in your body aching, and sweat seeping through the back of your shirt and into the mattress as your body switched between hot flashes and goosebumps every thirty minutes. The promised coughing and sniffling are still there, as if you weren't already suffering enough.

But maybe things could be worse—because the cool cloth resting on your forehead was changed each time you asked, you didn't have to get up and fetch ibuprofen yourself, and you were even spoon fed. All thanks to the beautiful, grumpy-but-actually-really-sweet guy you call your boyfriend.

You'd texted Leon early in the morning, woken up by an uncomfortable burning sensation in your whole body and a horrible headache, thinking you'd just let him know you're sick the way anybody tells anything to their partner. At the sight of the read receipt, you figured he was already at work and just busy—that lasted up until he unlocked your front door with his spare key fifteen minutes later.

"What are you doing here—" You'd asked, already confused and half-delirious from the fever.

"I said i had a family emergency. It's fine." He'd replied casually, as if he wasn't an important agent directly working under the President himself and supposed to be on duty 24/7.

He hadn't given you a choice, just ditched work and headed straight to your place the moment he got your message. Leon was the kind of person to choose the field over anything, until he met you.

The guy is married to his job—but that's only because he hasn't married you yet.

Not that he'd admit that.

He doesn't need to anyway, the way he's already striding back into your room with a tray full of snacks, some tea and a couple more pills is more telling than a hundred 'i love you's.

"How're you feeling?" Leon asked, eyes fixed on the tray as he carefully set it down on the night stand, hair falling over his eye as he bent down.

"Hot."

"That you definitely are." He replied, and you could see the corner of his lips twitch like he's suppressing a smirk. Always so proud of himself and his stupid flirting.

"Corny." You huffed, staying still as he removed the now lukewarm cloth from your forehead.

"You love it. Scooch over."

His hand pulled the covers back just enough for him to slide in next to you while you wriggled your way onto the other side of the bed.

"I'm gonna get you sick too..." You complained half-heartedly.

His arm is already slipping between your back and the mattress to pull you closer against his side, fingers curling around your waist.

"Don't care."

He reached towards the tray again with his free hand, picking up the cup of tea first and handing it to you, then the snacks. He opened one, and waited for the porcelain to leave your lips before holding up the sugary treat to it, waiting for you to take a bite.

Leon fed you and spoke quietly in an attempt to get your mind off of the pain and discomfort, his hand leaving your waist to come settle on the side of your head instead, thumb rubbing soothingly against your hair.

But the delirium soon had you rambling instead, slurring out anything that came to mind no matter how incoherent and stupid it was.

"But, like—would you attack me if you were infected? You love me, right?" You asked, voice muffled by your chewing.

"Baby," He huffed out a laugh through his nose, knuckles brushing against your temple. "If i was infected, i'd eat your heart first."

Your chewing stopped, your brows furrowing and your lips parting as your hazy mind processed his words. He'd be lying if he said he didn't find your confused state adorable.

"...Is that supposed to be romantic?" Your head tilted back against the headboard, glancing up at him like he's crazy—as if you're not the one asking ridiculous questions.

"It is, where i'm from." He shrugged, smirking down at you.

Your head lolled to the side, bumping against his shoulder. "You're weird." You mumbled, nose nuzzling against his bicep.

"You're dating me." He retorted teasingly, his palm warm against your scalp as he secured your head against him.

He could tell you were starting to get sleepy even as you kept mumbling incoherently, eyes blinking slow and breaths deepening.

"...Well if i turned, i'd eat your ass first."

Everyone seemed to know that by now, except for you.

Cliché? Yeah, a curse Leon hadn't managed to break yet.

You were clueless about it, even when it was the most obvious thing in the world. He was the sweetest man you'd ever met, always spoiling you with flowers and letters, and don't even get me started on all those little details he somehow always remembered. Not to mention he was always by your side, hugging you like a lifeline, reaching for your hand every chance he got, and even kissing your cheeks or forehead every now and then.

But in your mind, that was because he was Leon.

Your Leon, your best friend, and now, your roommate.

Because what perfect timing from the universe that you got offered a job in Raccoon City right around the time he graduated. It was a divine sign for him, all the stars in the sky aligning to give him the perfect excuse to live with you. By now, he had pictured living with you a hundred times. You two would be happily married, all laughs and kisses and hugs and kisses and more kisses. Maybe two or three children would come along with all those kisses, who knows?

Yeah, well, this was not exactly as imagined, you were not married, and you definitely hadn't kissed...

Yet... Hopefully.

And then there was one extra problem for him to add to the list.

He never knew how freaking hard it would be to live with you.

You were not a bad roommate. You paid your share on time, you made food for both of you, the apartment was magically always clean and smelled good. You were perfect, and that was the damn problem.

Walking around wearing your pajamas, didn't you know he was still a man? That was tempting his natural instincts. Oh, and also your hoodies, your sweatpants, your jeans, your shirts, oh, don't forget the shorts, and Leon's clothes, and... yeah, you get the point.

Everything you did felt different now, at least for him. Watching you do mundane chores had his heart hammering against his chest like crazy because it felt so domestic, and you looked so gorgeous when you cooked and mopped and swept and fuck, Leon was losing his mind.

The best part, for him of course, was when everyone thought you were a couple, when someone confused you for newlyweds, like the time your neighbor, an old lady who lived upstairs, called you the most adorable young couple she had ever met. You had barely opened your mouth to deny it when Leon just smiled like a lovestruck puppy and simply said, "Thanks," with the proudest tone on Earth.

That should have given you a clue about his feelings.

It did not.

Even when that was not an isolated incident. It happened every time someone got confused or assumed the two of you were together. You thought maybe it was because Leon probably didn't want to bother with explanations.

He agreed because he did think you were the most adorable young couple.

Or at least you could be.

Your apartment was always adorned with bouquets, and he called them "friendship flowers" every time you asked what the special occasion was.

What everyone saw was a man so in love he was willing to spend half his rookie salary on you without a second thought.

What you saw was just Leon being as sweet as always.

Your doubts arrived the first time you saw him jealous.

Leon was not the type to get mad at anyone. If he ever did, it would probably last less than an hour. But then he saw you arrive home with a box of chocolates from work.

A heart-shaped box of chocolates.

"Huh," he murmured, trying to hide how jealousy was twisting his guts. "Chocolates?"

"Yeah," you answered casually. "Some guy from work brought me these. Very kind of him."

"You hate chocolate," he said, rolling his eyes.

How could someone not know that interesting little fact about you? He had memorized it back in kindergarten.

"Yeah, but it seemed rude to tell him that," you said, leaving the box on the counter.

Leon reached for it and opened it, looking at the chocolates inside like they had personally betrayed him.

"They look awful. You should throw them away. They might be poisoned."

Very subtle, Leon.

"Huh, really?" you asked, getting closer to inspect them. They looked perfectly fine to you. "I was planning to give them to you."

Fuck.

How could he be so jealous and still manage to blush like a teenager just because of that?

"I don't want them," he hurried to say, crossing his arms over the counter and looking literally anywhere except at you. He could feel even his ears burning right now. "Some jerk gave you those. Freak doesn't even know you don't like them."

He seemed to think for a moment, the idea alone making his blood boil.

"You know what? Maybe I should eat them. That would teach him a lesson."

"A lesson?" you asked, completely confused. "For what?"

"For giving my girl damn chocolates. I bet he doesn't even know your favorite flower. That's why he got you a generic box of chocolates. And it's pink. You don't even like pink."

Now he was just rambling.

But you were still stuck on the my girl part.

"Yeah, he should've brought you flowers. Those make you smile, not these stupid chocolates."

"Leon?" you called softly, finally starting to put the pieces together.

"I was going to throw them away, but I think I'll eat them just to piss him off. You'll go tomorrow and when he asks if you liked them, you need to tell him I ate them. Me. Leon. Your boyfriend. Your Leon."

"Boyfriend?"

Oh fuck.

"Um, yeah, like... guy best friend?"

There was no way out of this.

This was the end.

He was ready to abort the mission, maybe fake a fainting spell, maybe have a real one. His face was burning, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to disappear, begging for the world to swallow him whole. Everything was spinning around him. You were going to be mad. You were going to leave. You were never going to look at him the same way again.

And then you were kissing him.

Wait, you were kissing him.

Fucking hell, you were kissing him.

It took a solid minute for him to understand what was happening before his hands found your waist like his body had been begging him to do that for years.

And then he kissed you back.

You felt warm and real and somehow even better than every impossible fantasy he had built in his head over the years. The kiss was everything he had spent so long dreaming about and somehow it still managed to exceed every expectation.

His brain completely short-circuited.

That day, his dreams came true.

Not the married part, not the kids...

Yet.

The kissing part, a lot of it.

Not in chaos, not in blood-slick corridors, or the weight of a gun in his hand, not even in the big moments—the ones people took pictures of, the ones that made it into baby books. He learned it in quieter moments that felt, somehow, more dangerous. Moments where there was nothing to aim at. Nothing to fight. Just a small, fragile life placed into his arms, and the terrifying understanding that this—this mattered more than anything he had ever survived.

He learned fatherhood the way he'd learned survival—instinct first, understanding later.

Leon Scott Kennedy had faced bioweapons, cults, and governments that lied as easily as they breathed. But none of it prepared him for the first time his daughter wrapped her fingers around his thumb and refused to let go.

She was born on a rainy night.

Leon remembered the sound of it more than anything—the steady drum of rain against the hospital windows, constant, like a clock counting down toward something inevitable. It had filled the room, settled into the spaces between each breath, each passing second.

He stood beside the bed, awkward in a way that felt unfamiliar, his shoulders tense in a way no battlefield had ever managed. His hands hovered, uncertain, before settling at his sides, like he wasn't sure where they belonged. His gaze fixed on her—his wife—on the slow rise and fall of her chest, on the exhaustion etched into her features.

He'd been shot before. Stabbed. Thrown through glass hard enough to feel it for days after. He knew pain—how to meet it, how to endure it, how to push through it until it stopped mattering. None of it came close to this.

Standing there, waiting, held in place by something he couldn't force his way through. The helplessness of it settled deep in his bones, unwelcome. This was not a fight he could step into for her. Not something he could take onto himself, no matter how much he wanted to.

When the crying finally came—sharp, furious, alive—it hit him harder than any explosion ever had.

A nurse pressed the tiny bundle into his arms.

And he froze.

"Support her head," someone said, gentle but firm.

Right. Head. Important.

His hands, so steady with a firearm, felt clumsy now. Too big. Too rough for something so small. He adjusted, carefully—so fucking carefully—and then she was there. Her weight settling into his arms, warm and fragile, in a way that felt frighteningly certain. Like something inevitable. Like gravity.

She was small.

God, she was so small.

Her face was scrunched, red, furious at the world she'd just entered. A thin, indignant wail left her, and Leon—Leon, who had talked down infected villagers and negotiated with armed men—panicked.

"Hey—hey, it's okay," he said, his voice gentler than ever. "I've got you. I've got you, kid."

Kid. That word hit like a brick to the chest, lingering long after the blow.

Her crying wavered. Hitched once. Then paused. Slowly—unbelievably slowly—the sound faded into the quiet. Her tiny hand lifted, searching without aim until it brushed his chest. Her fingers closed in the fabric of his shirt, small and stubborn, and held on.

Something shifted in him that day. Something permanent.

The first moment that broke him open wasn't dramatic.

It wasn't her birth. It wasn't her first cry. It wasn't even the first time he held her.

It was three days later.

He had been sitting on the couch, exhausted in a way that had little to do with lack of sleep. The house was quiet in the fragile way places sometimes were, like any sudden noise might shatter it. She was tucked against his chest, tiny and warm, her breath soft and steady where it brushed the fabric of his shirt.

Leon had been afraid to move. Afraid to breathe too deeply. Afraid to exist too loudly.

Then she made a sound—a small, content sigh—and curled her fingers into his shirt.

Not gripping. Not searching. Just holding.

He didn't make a sound. He didn't move. He just sat there, staring at the wall, feeling the weight of her—impossibly light, impossibly important—settle into him. And somewhere in that quiet, it became clear.

He would burn the world down before he let anything touch her.

The first time she laughed, he almost missed it.

He'd been sitting on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him, exhaustion pulling at him like gravity, settling into his bones like something ancient. She lay on a blanket beside him, kicking her feet and waving her arms in chaotic little bursts that never quite found a rhythm. Restless. Alive.

He wasn't doing anything special—just gently tapping her nose, over and over, because it made her eyes widen. But then she let out a small, startled giggle.

Leon froze.

Then she did it again.

And something inside him—something he hadn't known was still capable of warmth—lit up.

He smiled down at her. He didn't laugh with her. He didn't dare. He only watched, quiet and a little stunned, as if the moment might slip away if he touched it too directly.

It was such a small thing. But after everything he had seen and the horrors he had survived, it felt like a miracle.

He wasn't good at the quiet parts.

He could clear a building in under two minutes. He could field-strip a handgun blindfolded. He could talk down a panicked civilian with a calm that didn't belong to someone who'd seen what he'd seen.

But rocking a baby to sleep?

That was a battlefield he had no map for.

Some nights she slept fine. Others, she wailed like the world was ending. Leon would pace the hallway with her pressed against his shoulder, murmuring nonsense, trying to keep his voice steady.

"You're okay," he'd whisper, even when he wasn't sure he believed it. "I've got you."

Sometimes she'd settle. Sometimes she wouldn't.

But every time, without fail, he stayed.

Leon didn't sleep much.

Not because of missions. Not because of nightmares. But because she breathed. Or rather, sometimes, he was convinced she didn't.

He would sit beside her cot at night, listening, the silence stretching too long between each soft inhale. Waiting. Counting. Until he leaned in just enough to see the faint rise of her chest in the low light, to feel it in himself. Only then would he settle again. Not fully. Never fully.

She caught him once—his wife.

"You're going to burn yourself out," she said, her voice groggy from sleep.

"I'm fine," he replied.

"You've checked on her six times in ten minutes."

"She could've stopped breathing."

"She didn't."

Leon paused. Then softly added, "but she could."

His wife studied him for a moment, something soft and knowing settling in her gaze.

"She's not one of your missions, Leon."

He didn't answer. Because that was the problem.

Every instinct he had—every hardwired response shaped by years of survival—told him to treat this like a threat assessment. To anticipate. To prepare. To expect the worst before it has the chance to happen. But she wasn't something he could outfight. She wasn't something he could plan around or contain.

She was something he could lose.

And that was so much worse.

She grew, as children do. But it felt too fast, almost in the blink of an eye.

One day, she fit perfectly into the crook of his arm, small enough that he could hold her without thinking. And then the next, she was on the move—crawling across the floor with a fierce, reckless determination, knocking into anything that stood in her way.

Leon learned quickly that baby-proofing a home wasn't really about safety. It was about damage control.

"Where did she even learn that?" he'd muttered one afternoon, watching as she somehow managed to pull open a drawer he could have sworn he'd locked. His wife only smiled at him, a quiet curve of her mouth, one brow lifting in a way that said she wasn't surprised.

"She's your daughter."

"I don't break into drawers."

"You broke into a high-security compound in Spain."

"That was. . . different."

And as she grew, so did the fear.

Not the sharp, immediate kind that he was used to. Not the kind that came with gunfire, with the clear snap of a trap understood a moment too late. Not the kind that he could name and meet head-on.

This was slower. Heavier. A constant hum beneath his ribs.

She waddled toward the corner of a coffee table, and his heart froze. She stumbled on a rug, and he almost leapt to catch her. She put something in her mouth, and he felt like he had aged ten years.

"You're wound too tight," his wife told him once, watching as he hovered close while she tried to climb onto the couch.

"She's going to fall."

"She's learning."

"She's going to fall," he repeated, quieter this time.

She softened, her voice gentle as she looked at him. "And you'll be there."

As she grew, there were moments when she clung to him with a kind of desperation that tightened his throat. Like the night a thunderstorm rolled in—loud, sudden, its sound cracking through the walls, rattling the glass windows. She woke with a cry, scrambling out of bed, small feet unsteady as she ran down the hall.

Leon met her halfway, dropping to his knees just in time for her to collide with him, her weight hitting his chest hard for someone so small. She buried her face in his shirt, shaking, crying.

"It's okay," he murmured, lifting her easily. "I've got you."

He carried her to the couch, settling with her curled against his chest. Each thunderclap made her flinch, and with every flash of lightning, she grasped him more tightly. He held her through all of it.

Not because he knew how to soothe her. But because she believed he could.

And her belief—that blind, absolute trust she placed in him—was something he guarded more fiercely than anything else in his life.

Leon taught her things. Not the way he'd been taught—harsh, unforgiving, survival at any cost. He softened it where he could, filed down the sharper edges, and reshaped it into something softer. Something she could hold without getting cut.

"Okay," he said one evening, kneeling in front of her, holding his hands out. He took her wrist, his fingers curling around it—not tight, just enough to show her. "If someone grabs your wrist, like this," he said, "what do you do?"

She looked up at him, her expression serious and unblinking, like children do when they think they've got the right answer. Her head tilted a little, and a soft wave of blonde curls fell across her forehead as she thought about it.

"Bite them?"

Leon blinked, caught by her answer.

"That's— actually, yeah. That works. But let's try this first."

He guided her through it, slow and patient in a way no one had ever been with him. Showing her how to twist free, how to pull back, how to put space between herself and whatever held her.

And always—how to run.

"Why?" she asked, her small brow furrowing.

"Because getting away is more important than winning," he answered quietly.

She considered that for a moment.

Then nodded and smiled.

"Okay!"

Later that evening, when their daughter was asleep, his wife found him sitting at the kitchen table, staring down at his hands. His gaze was distant. A thousand yards.

"You're teaching her to fight," she said gently.

For a moment, he wasn't there with her. Flashing lights flickered. Police sirens pierced the air. The wet sound of footsteps followed him. The smell of decay, thick and clinging, hung in the air. Shouts and screams echoed around him. It pressed in, close and immediate.

Then he blinked and lifted his head, as if surfacing from beneath the haunt of his memories, almost as if he had just noticed her standing there.

"I'm teaching her to survive."

"She's a child, Leon."

His jaw tightened, the muscle ticking once beneath the strain.

"I know."

The words came out strained, like something pulled too tight.

"I know," he repeated, softer. "That's why I have to."

She called him Dad for the first time on an ordinary Tuesday. There was no build-up. No big moment. He was awake early, as always—before the sun, the house quiet around him. Halfway through making coffee, moving on autopilot more than thought, her small voice carried through the quiet.

"Dad?"

He stilled, then slowly turned.

She stood in the doorway to the kitchen, blonde hair a tangle of knots around her face, rubbing sleep from her eyes, still clutching her stuffed bear in one hand.

"Dad," she said again, reaching up with both hands. "Up."

He looked at her for a moment, as if the gap between them needed to be crossed twice. Then, silently, he moved forward—closing the distance quickly—and lifted her into his arms, holding her close, perhaps a bit too tightly.

"Yeah, baby", he murmured into her hair. "I've got you."

She yawned, small and sleepy. Then she rested her head against his shoulder, the weight of it settling easily. And just like that, it became the most important word he had ever been given.

As she grew older, her curiosity deepened, and she started asking questions. Not dangerous ones, at least at the beginning. Just simple, curious questions that reflected her growing wonder about the world around her.

"Why do you check the doors so much?" "Why do you wake up before the sun?" "Why do you look tired even when you sleep?"

He never had good answers. Not ones he could give her anyway.

He didn't want to tell her the truth—that he checked the doors because he had seen what happened when people didn't, that he woke early because nightmares didn't keep to any kind of schedule, that sleep didn't always mean rest.

So he softened it where he could, gave her the gentlest versions instead.

"Because I want to keep you safe." "Because mornings are quiet." "Because I'm still learning how to rest."

She accepted every answer without hesitation.

No suspicion. No second glance. She took his words as they were, small hands wrapped around something she trusted without question. There was no weight to it for her. No doubt.

And somehow, that made it harder.

The first time she realised what he did for a living, it didn't go well. He had wanted her to be older than she was—much older. But she had overheard something she shouldn't have and repeated it, as children do, without understanding the consequences.

"You fight. . . monsters?" she asked, whispering it like a secret meant for night alone. She even cupped her small hands around her mouth, as though that might contain the sound.

Leon hesitated.

There it was. The question he had been trying to avoid.

"Sometimes."

He watched her eyes widen, not with fear, but awe. And his heart dropped into his stomach.

"That's so cool!"

"No," he said immediately, sharper than he meant to, the panic in it enough to make her flinch. "No, it's not cool."

"But you save people. Like a hero."

His chest tightened at that, something heavy settling behind his ribs. She looked at him and saw a hero. He looked at himself and saw something else entirely—someone who had been broken, worn down in ways that did not show on the surface. Damaged in places no one could fix.

"It's. . . it's complicated, baby."

She tilted her head with that easy innocence children carried, her brow furrowing as she tried to make sense of it. She studied him with the same unnervingly perceptive look her mother wore—the kind that seemed to see more than it should.

"Do you. . . get hurt?"

Leon blinked. Opened his mouth. Then closed it.

"Sometimes."

She was quiet for a moment.

Then she reached out, her small hand pressing against his cheek, right over a scar he had long since stopped noticing. He had forgotten where it came from. Spain, maybe. Or before that. Raccoon City. They blurred together after a while—the blood, the injuries, the years between them.

"That's not okay," she said firmly.

He let out a quiet breath, something fragile slipping through the cracks. Part of him wanted to laugh. Another part wanted to cry. Both feelings sat heavily in his chest.

 "Yeah, baby," he agreed. "I know."

The worst nights never truly stopped; they only changed shape. Instead of sitting beside a crib counting each breath, he found himself standing in doorways, watching her sleep from a distance. Making sure she was still there. Still safe.

Sometimes she would wake and catch him there.

"Dad?"

"Go back to sleep, baby."

She never did. Not immediately, at least.

"Did you have a bad dream?"

Leon hesitated. He still did not know how to explain it—how to put shape to the fear that lived in his bones. The way his stomach seemed to fall out from under him whenever he imagined her hurt, frightened, taken from him. How every instinct in him demanded he protect her, no matter the cost. He would have burned the world to ash to make certain she never doubted she was safe. Loved.

"Something like that. . ."

And every time, she would shift beneath the blankets, lifting the edge and patting the space beside her like she was sneaking the dog into bed after being told not to.

"C'mere," she'd mumble, voice thick with sleep.

And every time, he would.

He would cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed, and she would curl into him without hesitation, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because to her, it was.

"You're okay," she murmured one night, already drifting again. "I've got you."

She said it so simply. So certain of it. One small hand curled into his shirt, her cheek warm against his side like she could not imagine a world where he wasn't there.

Or one where she would not reach for him when he hurt.

His throat tightened with tears. He smoothed a hand over her hair and swallowed against the ache rising in his chest.

"Yeah, baby," he whispered after a long moment. "I know."

He still carried scars. He still carried weapons. Still carried the weight of a world that never seemed to tire of breaking him. He still took missions he could not refuse. Still walked into places most people never came back from. Still shouldered burdens simply so no one else would.

But now, when he came home—bruised, exhausted, carrying the scent of smoke and adrenaline—she ran to him with open arms and absolute trust, never hesitating, never questioning whether he would catch her.

Now there was always something pulling him home.

Not duty. Not obligation.

A small hand gripping his shirt. A small voice calling him Dad. A life that did not care about the man he had been before, only the man who kept showing up.

And now, every time he stepped into the dark, every time the world tried to drag him back toward that place of self-loathing and old wounds, Leon held onto that.

Held onto her.

Because now survival wasn't enough.