PunkyPebbles

thankuuu and suree 💗💗💗 ( i base on the trend of bringing a candy and telling a trauma :D)

plus of they just chatting

Summary: The first thing you do after finally being cured from the virus is fall asleep in the car.

Your husband, Leon, keeps stealing glances at you while he drives. The streetlights pass slowly over your face and his jacket is draped around your shoulders.

He is glad your still with him.

Note: For my own sanity, I seriously need more fluffy RE9 Leon content. SOS.

Words: 2001

To call this day beyond shitty was an understatement.

Not only did you have to fight against another kind of fucked-up Wesker clone, because apparently the world would never be free of that man’s shadow. That wasn’t even the worst part. No. As if that wasn’t enough, you also had to endure another day in Raccoon City.

Raccoon City.

The one place you had promised yourself you would never come back to. The ruins still felt haunted, even in daylight. Every street corner carried memories you didn’t want to unpack.

But in the end, you came back for your husband Leon.

You came back because somewhere in this decaying graveyard of a city was a lead. A file. A sample. Something that might help you find a cure for the virus slowly eating you and him away. And if there was even the smallest chance, you were going to take it.

And now you were here with your husband. Both of you fighting, coughing up blood, dizzy and barely steady on your feet but it was all worth it.

You had finally found the cure. Because of Grace.

For the first time in what felt like forever you felt amazing. The fear that had followed you for months, maybe longer, wasn’t suffocating you anymore.

You hadn’t felt this good in so long.

And you couldn’t have been happier.

__________________________________________________________________________

You were sitting among the ruins where you had just fought Victor until his last breath. Dust still lingered in the air, mixing with the metallic scent of blood.

Your body screamed exhaustion at you from every direction. Every muscle ached. Your lungs burned. Even breathing felt like work.

You just wanted to sleep. You had enough.

“I’m so done,” you finally let out, closing your eyes for a second – just a second – as if that alone might make the world stop spinning.

He notices before you fall over.

He kneels in front of you.

“Hey. Don’t close your eyes on me like that.” His tone is worried.

“I’m just resting my eyes a little.”

He huffs quietly. “Yeah? That’s what we’re calling it now?”

He brushes dust off your shoulder, checking your pulse in the process. Just to make sure.

You catch his hand with yours, slowly opening your eyes to look at him. Gently, you press his hand against your cheek, leaning into the warmth of his skin.

“Leon–” You pause, your voice trembling from exhaustion. “I’m so happy we made it. I thought… I really thought I was going to lose you.”

Leon looks at your exhausted frame.

“You almost did.”

It’s the truth.

You nearly watched your husband. The love of your life, die right in front of you.

“But you didn’t,” he continues, softer now. “I’m still with you.”

You smile faintly at that and let your eyes close again, just for a second.

“Doesn’t mean you get to pass out in a biohazard zone,” he adds, though there’s no real bite behind it.

“Yes, sir.” You gave him a tired grin.

With a sigh, he picked you up in his arms and held you there while you waited for rescue. His grip was steady despite his own exhaustion, like putting you down simply wasn’t an option.

A few steps away, Grace watched the two of you interact. As if she were witnessing something fragile in the middle of everything.

“Well,” she muttered, glancing at the ruined building behind you, “next time someone says ‘routine investigation,’ I’m transferring departments.”

You huffed a weak laugh against Leon’s shoulder.

Leon shook his head slightly. “You’ll get used to it.”

Grace raised an eyebrow. “That’s not comforting.”

In the distance, the low hum of approaching rotors cut through the night air.

Rescue.

Grace looked toward the sound first. A rope dropped from above, and a soldier descended swiftly from the helicopter.

“Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy?” he called out as his boots hit the ground.

Leon’s gaze sharpened immediately. “Who’s asking?”

The soldier stepped closer, stopping right in front of you. “I have a message from Captain Redfield.”

You barely registered what was said. The words  floated somewhere above you. Very far away and muffled. You were out cold anyway.

___________________________________________________________________________

When you woke once more, it was time for the medics to check you over — to make sure there were no wounds or anything more serious. You let the procedure happen without protest. All you wanted was to go home and finally take the rest you’d been dreaming of.

When they finally let you go, you were relieved. You said goodbye to Grace, who was sitting right next to you. Leon spoke his final words to her as well before lifting you from the open back of the ambulance.

You didn’t resist. You didn’t want to fight it anymore.

All that mattered was that he was here with you, and that you were finally safe… finally free from the virus.

When you finally reached his car, he opened the passenger door and carefully helped you down into the seat. One hand steady at your waist to make sure you don’t get hurt.

You let yourself sink into the leather with a long, heavy sigh. Every muscle in your body relaxed at once. The exhaustion finally catching up now that the danger had passed.

Leon moved around to the driver’s side and slid in beside you. For a moment, he just sat there with both hands resting on the steering wheel. You watched him quietly.

His eyes were rimmed with fatigue, faint shadows beneath them. His posture was straight out of habit rather than strength. Shoulders tight like he was still waiting for something else to go wrong.

“You’re getting old, darling,” you muttered softly in his direction. A tired smile tugging at your lips.

He let out a quiet huff – not quite  a laugh.

“Yeah?” he replied, starting the engine. His voice sounded tired. “Pretty sure I just carried you out of there.”

He glanced at you briefly, one eyebrow lifting just slightly.

“Don’t think I’m the one we should be worried about.”

But there was no real bite in his tone. Only relief.

His hand lingered near yours on the console, close enough to touch – just in case.

You roll your eyes faintly at his reply. Too tired to argue properly.

“Mm. Still old,” you murmur while shifting in your seat to get comfortable. “I saw you wince when you lifted me.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

He snorts under his breath, pulling the car onto the road. “That was tactical strain management.”

“Sounds old.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

You smile to yourself, watching the passing streetlights blur across the windshield. The ruins of Raccoon City fade slowly behind you, swallowed by darkness and distance.

“You know,” you mumble again, your words beginning to drag slightly, “when we get home… you’re making tea. And I’m not moving for at least a week.”

“Tea?” he replies. “After everything we just—”

But when he glances over to finish the sentence, he stops.

Your head has tipped toward the window.

Your eyes are closed.

Your breathing has evened out.

Mid-talk. Just like that.

Leon exhales slowly through his nose, something between a sigh and a quiet laugh.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he mutters softly.

:::::::

When you reached the city you still where deep asleep. At the next red light, the car comes to a gentle stop. The glow washes over your face in red and gold, and he looks at you once more.

Just looks.

There’s dried blood near your hairline. A faint crease between your brows even in sleep.

He reaches over without thinking and turns the heat down slightly. The air was too warm – you always get overheated when you’re exhausted.

When the light turns green, he accelerates slowly. Carefully. Every bump in the road, he eases over it. Every pothole, he swerves around. The last thing he wants is to wake you.

Another red light.

Another glance.

This time longer.

He shrugs off his jacket with one hand while the car is stopped, movements slow. Leaning across the console, he drapes it gently over your shoulders. You stir faintly but don’t wake up.

His fingers linger for a second near your collarbone before he pulls away.

A siren wails somewhere in the distance.

Instantly, his posture shifts. His hand twitches toward the gun at his side. His eyes scan the mirrors, the dark sidewalks, the empty intersections.

But then you shift in your sleep.

Your head tilts slightly toward him instead of the window.

And just like that, his shoulders ease.

His hand leaves the weapon and instead settles over yours on the console.

Your fingers move instinctively, curling weakly against his. You don’t wake up.

You don’t have to. He swallows, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.

He’s faced bioweapons that could level cities. Faced monsters that wore human faces. Faced death more times than he can count.

But this?

This scares him more. Because you’re soft. You’re warm and you’re his.

And you’re something he could lose. The light turns green again. He drives.

Slower than usual. When you finally reach the quiet stretch of highway, the city nothing more than a shadow in the rearview mirror, he glances over one more time.

Your breathing is steady.

Peaceful.

He doesn’t wake you when he pulls into the driveway.

He turns the engine off. The world goes quiet.

And for a long moment, he just sits there – watching your chest rise and fall. Peacefully.

___________________________________________________________________________

The engine ticks softly as it cools.

Leon watches you for a moment longer, memorizing the slow rise and fall of your chest. The way his jacket has slipped slightly down one shoulder.

He reaches over and adjusts it. Fingers brushing your skin.

“Always said you weren’t tired,” he murmurs under his breath.

He steps out first, moving around the car quietly. The night air is cool, calmer than the city ever was. When he opens your door, he does it slowly.

He leans in.

One arm slides behind your back. The other beneath your knees.

He lifts you carefully, like he’s done a hundred times before – except this time there’s no urgency or bioweapons.

Just you.

Your head falls against his shoulder instantly, body molding into his without resistance. Your hand grips weakly at the fabric of his shirt even in sleep.

His chest tightens.

He nudges the car door shut with his foot and walks toward the house. Even exhausted, he carries you like you weigh nothing.

At the door, he pauses just long enough to adjust his hold.

You mumble something incoherent against his collarbone.

He freezes.

“…I’m here,” he whispers immediately, before you can even wake fully.

Your grip relaxes again.

Inside, the house is dark and quiet. Safe. He moves through it carefully, not bothering with the lights. He knows the layout by memory.

When he reaches the bedroom, he lowers you onto the bed. One hand stays behind your back until you’re fully settled against the mattress.

You turning slightly toward him. He crouches beside the bed for a moment instead of standing up.

Then he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead.

His lips move down to your hairline, then finally to your cheek. A second kiss.

“You scared me,” he murmurs quietly, more confession than accusation.

You shift toward him, like your body knows he’s there. He exhales through his nose, resting his forehead briefly against yours.

He’s faced monsters without blinking.

But this – this soft, sleeping version of you – makes his hands tremble just a little.

After a moment, he carefully removes his jacket from your shoulders. He puts a blanket over you instead and brushes his thumb once more across your cheek.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers.

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