#infected!leon

Leon had been your partner for years. You had both come out of Raccoon City that night with bruises and wounds of all sorts, but also a brewing friendship. Or maybe even something more.

You trusted each other with everything you had.

So when he started being more aloof and secretive, you immediately sensed something was wrong.

He won’t linger around long enough for you to ever be able to prove it, though. So waiting it out and trying to catch him at the right time seemed like the move for now, but he always avoided you if he had the chance. Missions were different, of course, as you always had to stick together, but if you were back home, then he was nowhere to be found. Admittedly, it was hard. You two were extremely close, so why the cold shoulder?

The two of you were being sent to New York. A quick special-op mission at a gorgeous gala that seemed rather simple compared to the usual guts and gore that you were used to.

Hunnigan gave you the rundown, as well as a wide range of formal gowns to choose from. She knew what styles you liked as well as your favorite colors (and shades, how sweet) so it was smooth sailing. At least something is.

You looked through the variety of fabrics laid before you, trying to make the right decision. Either way, they were all at your disposal (for other missions of course), but all of them were new and you wanted to choose not just a gown, but the right gown.

After a while, you heard Hunnigan call your name, guiding you out of whatever spaced out state you were in. “Hello? You’ve been staring at the same dress for quite some time now… you okay?”

You manage a small smile, although it’s fleeting. “Mhm.”

“Mhm?” she questions, mimicking the exact way the simplified response fell from your lips.

“Yeah, I’m fine. No worries.”

“It’s Leon, isn’t it?” Silence. “Yeah, it is.”

“No it’s not!” you’d argue.

“Your defensiveness tells me otherwise. C’mon, spill. But while you look through the dresses.”

Your hands ghost over them, deciding on one that seemed to flatter you in many ways. The color went well with your skin tone, the neckline was beautiful and the length was just right. That one would certainly be next in line for a try-on.

“He’s been avoiding me, which is so unlike him, and he barely even talks to me anymore. Not even a single dad joke,” you stated, a mixture of concern and slight fury in your tone.

“That’s… weird,” Hunnigan replied rather simply. You just nodded before continuing from where you left off.

“He only talks to me if he absolutely has to, like on missions. I just don’t understand him anymore.”

The other woman shrugged as you went into the bathroom to try on the dress you had picked out. But she still listened outside of the door, regardless of if she was truly interested in lovers quarrels or not (even though you guys weren’t technically together). Your voice was muffled, but she could tell you were deeply hurt by him.

“Maybe he’s just got something going on and doesn’t want you caught up in it. It’s not… unlikely,” she tried to reason, watching you leave the bathroom in the dress you liked. “That could get his attention, though. It looks great on you.”

“Thanks, Ingrid. It’s really pretty…” you trailed off, admiring every detail of the dress. “It’s the one.”

The next few hours went by quickly as you packed everything you needed for the overnight trip to New York. Not much time to sightsee, just a one-and-done mission and a night at a hotel, but maybe it was for the better. You could get back home to… your plants, and… yeah. The plants for sure.

You and Leon boarded the plane, overnight bags in hand. It was an hour and a half tops, but “enough time for talk” in the words of Hunnigan the Wise. But how would you even go about it? “Hey, what’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me recently and it’s not like you,” or “hey so what the f**k is your problem?”

Confrontation sucks.

Maybe it’s not what you need before the mission.

So you take your headphones out of your purse, find a playlist and pretend he doesn’t exist and this isn’t happening for the entirety of the car ride, which doesn’t go unnoticed. But he couldn’t say anything about you not saying anything. A rock and a hard place indeed.

You arrive at the hotel, safe and sound, and make your way to room 407, where you’d find comfort and safety after the gala.

Hunnigan explained that tonight, a rich CEO was throwing a whole “charity” event, which was really a coverup for a money laundering operation, and it was you and Leon’s job to find out more info without getting caught. After you got what you needed, you could take in the capitalist pig as well as take in whoever else was knowingly involved.

Easy, right?

For you and Leon, absolutely.

You got ready for the event, making yourself look as dazzling and rich as humanly possible. Tonight, you were not yourself. You were Elizabeth Richmond, model and sole heir of your father Shaun’s rising tech company. You had a part to play, and that signature line from RuPaul’s Drag Race endlessly repeated in your mind.

As for Leon, he was now Kevin Ryman, your fiancé and co-founder of a cybersecurity company, which saw a dip in profits for a while but recently got back on its feet. Simple enough stories to tell over a glass of their finest beverages, but still not enough to fully dive into in case if someone tries looking for you after. Not too much or too little info, yet just enough to give your persona some detail and allow you both to charm your way through the night and get everything you need in order to shut this whole ordeal down. Shouldn’t be too bad, right? …Right?

You step outside your hotel room, hair and makeup done just right and a gun strapped to your thigh but hidden under your dress. Leon’s waiting across from you, clad in a classic navy suit, leaning against the door to his room. His eyes linger for a moment, wandering, before eventually shifting elsewhere as he begins to leave the hotel, motioning for you to follow. “Silent treatment still?” you thought. A string of curses may have also followed in your thoughts, but who’s to say for sure?

The two of you get in your limo, driven by one of the agents, and make your way to the CEO’s (whom you admittedly forgot the name of) attempt at a Met Gala. You go through the file you were given as a reminder, and ohhh, that’s right. His name was Dave Seville. Easy enough.

“Traffic jam. We’re stuck here for now, but we’ll still make it in time,” the agent (and driver for the night) states, shutting the little window afterwards so you and Leon have privacy.

This is your chance.

“Did I do something?” you question, practically out of nowhere.

Leon looks up from the file in hand, temporarily pausing his review of it. “What makes you say that?”

“Many things, actually, but what’s going on? You’ve barely spoken to me over the last few weeks and it’s honestly scaring me. It’s not like you.”

He can tell that it’s been bothering you for a while, and not just based off of your words, but how passionate you were about it. He had hurt you, and there was no turning back from it. Some of that bond had started to wither, even after all these years. But things die if they’re not cared for properly.

The blond man across from you thought about his words very carefully before speaking up. “I’m just… going through some things right now. I don’t need you or anyone else getting involved in it. That’s all.”

You wanted to reach for his hands, rough from years of field experience but soft in the way they could hold you. You figured if you could hold him, you could comfort him and take away some of that anxiety. But maybe that’s not what he needed right now. Maybe he needed space and everything was just a misunderstanding.

“I understand that, but I’m here for you, Leon. You don’t have to handle it all on your own.”

If only you knew.

He managed to give you a ghost of a smile, and a small nod of acknowledgment, but quickly returned to reviewing the mission details. “I’m Kevin, by the way.”

“Oh screw you.”

“You wish.”

Yeah, you definitely did.

Eventually, you arrive at the gala, which takes place at the Grand Royale Hotel. It was an older building, yet renovated to look more “modern” and blend in with the times. Regardless, whatever architects in charge of the project however many years ago were clearly geniuses.

Staring at the hotel from your window, you don’t realize that Leon has already gotten out of his seat and made his way to your door, opening it for you and offering you his hand. You remember your role and take his hand, following him out of the vehicle and into the hotel.

Chandeliers hang on every ceiling and antiques litter the building, giving it more character. It seems as if they hadn’t completely changed the whole aesthetic just yet. The woman at the front finds your names on the list of guests, and Leon guides you into a crowd of people. Quieted jazz, various voices and laughter that reeks of country clubs begin to swirl around the room, filling the atmosphere. Your eyes shift around, looking for the faces seen in the mission files, carefully picking through everyone to find your targets.

One of them is spotted.

You guide Leon to the older man, known as Richard Armani, a wealthy entrepreneur who was definitely a sketchy guy. Maybe even a rejected Shark Tank member.

“Mr. Armani, it’s a pleasure meeting you here,” you greet, feigning admiration for the man. “I must say, I’m a fan of your work.”

He pauses talking to his group. “Oh, thank you, Mrs…”

“Miss Richmond. Kevin and I aren’t married just yet,” you reply, giving Leon a quick glance and a sweet smile. Leon greets Armani, giving him a firm handshake before returning to face you.

“I’ll go get us some drinks, love.”

“Thank you dear,” you say in response, lightly pecking Leon’s cheek to further sell the story.

Or so you told yourself.

Leon slips off and you continue to talk to Armani, looking for any and all info to incriminate him and dig deeper into Seville’s plans. Anything helps, but you ultimately need something solid, or else Hunnigan would have your head (as close as you two are, she’ll always be expecting the most).

The blond observes you from the bar, admiring the way you looked tonight. You were stunning, and there was a silent hope in the back of his mind that maybe you had romantic feelings for him too. But he knows that especially now, he’ll never be the one to ask. It’s too risky. Too much of a burden on you. So he’ll just watch from afar, keeping you close to his heart but always at an arms distance.

Time passes and the endless chatter continues. It’s rather exhausting in its own way, and quite boring as well. At some point in time, Leon returned with the drinks, as well as a few tips on Seville from people who are struggling to be on good terms with him. It only serves as a reminder to be careful who you let into your inner circle.

You and Leon try to find out what you can while Hunnigan does hardcore deep dives on Seville, working together as quickly and proficiently as humanly possible. After quiet data exchanges, Hunnigan rules that you have enough of what you need to incriminate Dave and other government agents drag him out mid-speech.

Might as well grab a quick drink from the bar before you go!

Eventually, you and Leon make it back to the hotel and you couldn’t be more grateful. You’re just about to rush into your room and change into much more comfortable clothes before you suddenly remember what’s been silently plaguing you the entire time. “Can we talk about it now?”

“…You don’t let up, do you?”

“Nope.”

“I don’t want to be harsh with you, but it’s better that you don’t know.” He reaches for the doorknob, but you push further anyway.

“What happened in Spain?”

“Does it really matter?” It’s not necessarily defensive, more so questioning.

“Yes.”

“God, you’re stubborn.” He’s known it from the start, yet still keeps you around anyway.

“So I’ve been told.”

You couldn’t make it to that mission. They had already sent you to guide a rookie agent on a separate mission in Hong Kong a few hours prior to take down triad boss Kenny Wu. Admittedly, you felt guilty that you couldn’t assist Leon, but you also couldn’t just circle back to help him out. It was his first solo mission in quite some time, and part of him wished that you were there. The other part was grateful you weren’t.

“Just come in and we can talk.” You’re hoping he takes you up on the offer.

He thinks on it, sighs softly and nods.

The blond who sat across from you on your bed didn’t know how to bring such a thing up. That mission was one of the worst he’s had to deal with so far, and he was lucky he made it out somewhat intact.

Somewhat.

Eventually, he cut to the chase.

“It’s not gone,” he says simply, which it comes off rather ambiguous. “It’s still in my veins, I can’t stop it. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

You stared at him, “Leon… what did you find there?”

“It found me. The Plaga.”

Your heart drops. What do you even say to somebody in his position? Nothing. You can’t do anything to console them because you never know when/if they’ll turn into… whatever.

“What are you talking about?”

He wants to hold your hands to ground himself, and for a glimpse of a moment, he reaches out, but he sees thin black veins cover his hands and he retracts. He wishes you knew about everything already, but at the same time, he wishes he could guard you from it all. But he can’t. You’re too stubborn. Too kind. You’ll worry no matter what he does or says.

“The people there… Los Illuminados… they had their own virus. The Plaga. It controlled the villagers there, and they infected me and Ashley,” he began to explain. “But I’m not the same as them. Ashley said she cured me but—”

“You’re still infected.”

He almost nodded, looking anywhere but towards you. “By the Plaga, no. By something else it left behind. No one else there seemed to have such a strange reaction to it. Something changed in me. It started with my veins, then my eyes, then… blood-thirst.”

Vampire.

You keep yourself from making some awful Twilight joke to break the awkward feeling that filled the room. This was even worse. There was no cure for this and no one who could help him anymore. You didn’t know what all happened there, but he was alive in a sense. How do you comfort him?

“Please, say something… anything,” he pleads, finally looking into your eyes. Only then do you realize that they’re a dark crimson, as if he was starved.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you say softly with a smile. You can tell by his expression that he’s grateful, and admittedly, he hoped that would be the outcome. He says a quiet “thank you” and begins to excuse himself off, up until you stop him.

“Where are you going?”

The words are caught in his throat. He doesn’t want to say it, because it makes him feel like a monster.

“….I think you already know.” He pauses. “I don’t want to be a monster. I wanted to help people, not hurt them.”

“Is that why you stayed away from me? Because you thought I’d think of you as a monster?”

His darkened irises flicker to you for a mere moment, and then back to the door. He wants to leave. He wants to find a way out. Even so, he’d do anything for you. “That’s not the only reason,” Leon answers almost shamefully. “It’s hard to resist, and I can’t hurt you.”

He hates this. There’s nothing he can do to stop any of it. No one else knows. They can never know, because if they did, he’d be experimented on and killed when they were through with him. That’s how the government — and everything else, really — worked.

So he had to tell you.

“Because I love you,” he says quietly, but he knows you heard it. He finally looks at you, carefully stepping toward you as if he feared you run.

But you didn’t.

“And I can’t let myself hurt someone I love.”

His voice breaks, and you can tell that it’s eating him alive. He never wanted this. He wanted a future with you, if you wanted it too of course, but everything felt like it was ruined now. You rise from the hotel bed, meeting him halfway. The blond looks like he wants to cry, but he doesn’t. He just watches you approach, his heart beating rapidly, as if it were going to explode. He was praying to whoever was listening that you felt the same. Please feel the same.

Your eyes linger on his lips, as if asking for permission. He gave you a small nod, confirming. You cradle his face and the two of you close the distance, the kiss cautious and slow, but sweet all the same. You pull apart for a moment before going back in, deeper this time. More passionate, like it was saying all of the words you’d held back the last six years. His fangs graze your lips, yet not enough to hurt. Your hands wander in his hair, pulling him closer to you. His hands wander around, yet still remain respectful.

“I love you too,” you whisper, blush dusting your cheeks.

The biggest smile graces his face and he’s practically glowing (not in a “skin of a killer” way). You’ll never know how happy you truly make him.

His crimson irises and black veins serve as a reminder of what he is and what he has to do to survive, but you love him anyway. Something he can’t control isn’t going to change that.

“Don’t go,” you plead softly, fingers gently caressing his face. His hands hold your wrists in a comforting manner, wishing he could stay, but it kills him.

“I can’t stay. Wildlife is far from here, I can’t wait any—”

“Then use me.”

“No… no, not an option,” he says sternly.

You plead, “Leon, please. You won’t make it and I’m not risking losing you.”

Leon winced at the thought of even doing it, but he knows you’re right. He guides you to the bed and sits beside you, treating you as if you’re made of glass. “I’ll be fast,” he promises, his voice almost a whisper. You give him a small nod, a silent “go-ahead.” He moves your hair from your neck and leans in, fangs piercing your soft skin. It hurts for a mere moment, before easing and being replaced with something along the lines of bliss.

Leon takes enough to be satiated for a while but not enough to hurt you any more than he already has. He understands why it’s been so hard to be around you; it’s because the blood of someone you love is much sweeter and intoxicating than any known drug. If he didn’t know better, he’d lose himself in the feeling.

He seals the bite with a kiss, feeling remorse yet gratefulness all at the same time. His eyes slowly return to normal, the black ink in his veins retract and suddenly, he’s just normal Leon again. You smile at him, and he forces himself to smile through the guilt. “I’m fine,” you promise. He doesn’t believe you, but he’ll pretend that he does.

He doesn’t leave your room for a while. Instead, he watches some mindless comedy while you go through your nightly routine and talks to you until you fall asleep. Only after you’ve dozed off does he quietly leave, returning to his own room. Not in a “one night stand” manner, but a “I’m not Edward Cullen, I won’t watch you sleep and I won’t cross boundaries” sort of way.

Leon’s had a rough time sleeping well since the Raccoon City Incident, but that night, he’s slept the best he ever has. And when he wakes, he’ll know that it was all because of you.

You both knew it was going to be rough. There was no way it was going to be easy having a relationship as agents, as well as him being a vampire with no cure for the extended strand of Las Plagas created just yet, but you’d make it work. “That’s what people who love each other do,” you’d tell him. What else is in store for you? Who knows. He was just glad you were there with him from the beginning, and promised to stay until the end.

You shake your head, pressing your lips together. “I’m staying right here.”

His fingers twitch weakly in your grip as he lets out a hoarse chuckle, though there's no real humor behind it. “Stubborn as hell... Always were.”

A sharp intake of breath as another wave of pain hits him, jaw clenching hard enough to make the muscle jump. But even now his gaze locks onto yours with that same stupid, stubborn intensity. “...Fine. But if I start turnin’ into one of those things, you better put me down before I embarrass myself.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up slightly, just for you.

“You’re not. You- no. They’ll figure something out. Sherry-”

“It’s my end of days, gorgeous,” his voice is cracked as his eyes find yours. “Don’t start lying to me now.”

“Leon,” you whisper, blinking hard because he can’t die. Not now. Not like this. “Please.”

His thumb brushes weakly over your knuckles—gentle, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of them. “Hey... I've cheated death more times than I can count. Maybe it was always gonna catch up.”

A ragged breath, then his voice drops lower—barely there, but still steady. “But listen... You don't beg for me. Not ever.” His grip tightens slightly, as if he could will strength into you through touch alone. “You walk outta here when it's done. Alive. That's the deal.”

The faintest smirk tugs at his lips again, even as his eyes start to lose focus, always having to have the last word.

“You can’t, Leon you can’t just- not when I-” you stop, because you hadn’t said the words yet. You hadn’t been brave enough, and even now as death stared at you through his eyes the words caught on your tongue.

“I know,” he murmurs, his eyes closing. “S’okay baby. You don’t have to say a thing.”

“I want to,” you whisper. “I really do.”

He lets out a bitter laugh turned ragged by another sudden wave of pain, eyes squeezed shut as he leans his head back against the pillow for a moment. It feels like eternity while you wait for the wave to pass. When he finally looks at you again, there's a softness there—pain, yes, but something like tenderness, too.

His hand lifts to brush a strand of hair away from your face, the calloused pad his thumb tracing along your cheekbone.

“Hey... I can be selfish, right...?”

“Be selfish with me,” you whisper, clasping his hand and keeping it to your face. You scoot closer to the bed with your chair, your knees pressing to the edge of the mattress. “Fight for me. Don’t die, for me. Fuck umbrella, and Racoon city, and everyone that made this world your problem. Be selfish, and love me.”

“I already do.”

His response is quick, a knee jerk reply, and you still, your eyes widening and his hand is warm on your cheek as it keeps a grasp on your face. His expression softens further, his gaze never leaving yours, steady and intense, that familiar stubbornness in it, even now. It makes your chest ache, because he never changed and you don't want him to. He'll always be Leon.

He's quiet for a moment, just studying your face, his thumb stroking gently over your skin with what must be the last of his strength.

Then in a hoarse whisper, he's making a demand. “Come closer.”

You lean forward, pressing your elbows to the mattress so you can lean on your palms, your face closer to his. The tears prick at your eyes before you inhale, finding the scent that is so clearly him under the gun powder and antiseptic.

His breath hitches, just once, as your face hovers just above his, his grip tightening ever so slightly in your hair before he exhales.

“Tell you what,” he murmurs, rough with pain but still so warm. “If I make it through this... you better be ready to say those words back to me.” His smirk is weak now, but it's there, barely. Teasing. Like always.

Before you can answer, he tugs your face down the last inch and kisses you like he's got nothing left to lose.

Which, well... he might not, but hell if that stops him from making sure you do.

You close your eyes, committing the feel of his lips on yours to memory. They’re chapped but smooth, cool against your warm ones. Even with the pain and the fever, he still kisses you so gently, almost reverently. As if you're something fragile or delicate, instead of a trained agent who can put a bullet in a zombie's head at a hundred feet, but then, he's always treated you as if you were something rare. Something he never deserved.

He breaks the kiss but only just, his forehead presses against yours, a shaky exhale leaving him as he breathes in the scent of you, one that reminds him always of home.

You’re crying now, salty tears slipping down your cheeks and wetting his skin. He makes a soft sound, shaking his head. “Don’t cry for me.”

“Can’t help it.” You pull back, taking in his face, the lines of black that crawl up his neck and your eyes crinkle as you blink rapidly. “I love you. Oh god, Leon I love you.” Your voice cracks and you break, your head falling to his chest as you sob. “Please. Please don’t do this.”

His arm comes around you, weak but insistent, pulling you as close as he can manage, his hand cradling the back of your head like he's trying to shield you from all of this.

“Damn it,” he rasps, pressing a rough kiss into your hair. “Not how I wanted to hear that for the first time.”

You can feel his heartbeat under your cheek, too fast, too uneven, but still there. Still fighting, because Leon Kennedy doesn’t know how to do anything else.

“We can fight this,” you whisper into his chest. “I know we can. The doctors said-”

“Doctors don’t know everything,” he says softly and you sit up, wiping at your eyes. “They’re guessing, at best.”

“They could be right,” you insist. “And I’m not giving up. Not on you, never on you.”

His gaze sharpens, a flicker of that old fire in his exhausted eyes, and he exhales through his nose like you're being particularly difficult.

“Stubborn as hell,” he mutters, but fondness laces his tone.

With a slow inhale, he nods once, sharp and decisive. “Fine. We try, but if this shit goes south…” His thumb brushes under your eye again, wiping away another stray tear before it can fall. “You still walk out alive. You still live.”

You chew at your lip but nod nonetheless.

Leon Kennedy never was good at surrender; not even now.

So maybe, just maybe, neither are you.

x

Angsty April ML

Leon Kennedy Blurbs

The cabin was incredibly warm for the cold winter night; the fireplace roaring with a comfortable fire as a bar held some kebabs over the flames. There was cute old-fashioned Rudolph plate that had some haphazardly-decorated cookies on them; looking like piss-poor excuses of Christmas icons beside your neatly decorated cookies.

Leon was sitting in the rocking chair near the fireplace, his tail slowly turning the kebabs as you sat on the couch with your feet tucked beneath you, your fingers quick yet comfortable as you crocheted. Leon couldn't tell what it was that you were working on, and God help him, he was too shy to ask.

If he had to guess, it looked like the beginnings of a sock...or maybe a hat? Leon's face contorted into a frown as he stared at your hands, and he almost jumped at the sound of your giggles.

Trailing his eyes over your frame, he drank in the sight of you in cute flannel pajama pants that matched his own; a grey ARMY sweatshirt keeping you warm. Leon finally met your gaze, and he hoped that the orange light of the fire hid his blush.

"W-What is it?"

Leon almost cursed, his voice coming out a bit shaky, and you smiled wider, glancing back down at your project and resuming, the yarn sitting in a bowl on the ground jumping and unrolling with every hook and knot you created.

"You look like you're trying to solve a math problem."

Leon was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out what to say as he chose his next words carefully as if saying the wrong thing would spell out disaster for him.

"I'm just...trying to figure out what it is that you're making."

You hummed, taking a break to crack your fingers and stretch the poor extremities out.

"I'm making some sleeves. It's just too cold to not have some extra warmth."

Leon nodded, glancing out the window. It was dark outside, the sun having already disappeared around 5 o'clock, and Leon glanced back at the fireplace to check on the kebabs. He wasn't sure what to say or do, so Leon glanced at you from the corner of his eye, murmuring.

"It's...it's looking great so far."

You smiled at him softly, nodding gently to him, and Leon slowly let out the breath that he was holding before taking a large sip of his hot cocoa. Whipped cream and melted sprinkles coated his nose and upper lip, and before he could wipe it away with his tongue, you giggled at him again.

"You know, you could totally rock some facial hair if you tried to grow it."

Leon couldn't help but to make a face at you, amusement swirling within his chest as you snorted at his expression; hiding behind your sleeve and making his heart drop just slightly.

"No way. I can't really grow facial hair anyway. It's always patchy...besides my chin and upper lip."

Almost reflexively, Leon rubbed his mouth, wiping away the melted cream and sprinkles before glancing at you as you shrugged.

"That's a bummer. I think you'd look great."

Leon couldn't help but to joke back gently as if he was testing waters just like he had in Spain.

"I'd say it's a bummer too...since I'd be letting you down."

You looked up at him fully, looking a bit surprised, and Leon couldn't help but to look away; hitting himself internally for saying something so strange and weird. Instead, his heart began to race and his plagas shivered from within when you responded seriously.

"You could never let me down, Leon. You're handsome with or without the facial hair, and don't let anybody else ever tell you different."

Leon's mouth was slightly agape as he stared at you, and you offered him another smile before going back to work, humming gently to the Christmas songs that were playing on your radio.

Leon couldn't find the words to say; frozen within his seat as he tried to figure out what to do, and he leaned forward a bit before wincing; his wounded pincers scraping against the ground. You glanced at him through the corner of your eye, never once pausing your work as you asked him gently; the man becoming embarrassed again as he seemed to protectively curl in on himself.

"Are they bothering you again?"

"I'll be okay, they're just sore."

You hummed, your tone gentle but expression firm as you set your sleeve down within your lap again.

"That's not what I asked you, Leon. It's okay that you're in pain. You're not going to be in trouble for asking for help, okay?"

Leon was quiet for a moment, staring at you; nostrils flaring as he tried to detect any trace of a lie on reflex before feeling guilty that he even felt the need to search. You, however, were patient; gentle and caring and so fucking angelic that Leon couldn't bare to look at you any longer lest the light of the fire make you truly glow like a real angel that he couldn't help but to worship.

His heart was racing within his chest, lips becoming a bit dry, and Leon closed his eyes for a moment; calming his pounding heart, and he whispered softly as his chest suddenly tightened again and his limbs tried to curl in on themselves.

"I...I don't want to...to bother you."

You slowly slid off of the couch and walked to Leon, his eyes hyperaware of your movements, and you sat down on the ground in front of him, gently grasping his hands within yours as you looked up at him.

"Leon, you are never going to be a bother. You need help and that's okay. I know those scientists...the sergeants...the missions themselves...they all made you think that accepting help was weakness, and that's not true."

Leon was awestruck as you squeezed his hands gently before you gestured to his pincers and tail.

"This? This isn't weird to me. This isn't something to be ashamed of. What happened to you was unfair and it was terrible, and they didn't even bother to help despite having the means to. You were taken advantage of, and that's unforgiveable...and most certainly isn't your fault. What happened in Raccoon...in Spain...it wasn't your fault. You were just trying to help."

There were tears festering within his eyes, wetting his eyelashes and cheeks, and you sat up, tucking his head into your shoulder as Leon began to cry; holding you close to him like a lifeline as your words echoed through his mind.

It was one thing to tell something to yourself like a mantra over and over with hopes that one day while looking in the mirror, you would suddenly believe it. However, to hear someone say the words that he had needed to hear for years that didn't sound fake and rehearsed but were truly meant?

It broke him down like a goddamn skyscraper and bore his heart completely out of the ashes.

Leon was clutching you close as he cried into your shoulder, your sweatshirt becoming damp, and you gently rocked him back and forth; running your fingers through his hair soothingly. No matter how hard he tried, Leon couldn't steady his breathing, and when he began to hyperventilate, you pulled away.

Leon chased after you, but stopped when you took your sweatshirt off. His eyes widened slightly, his eyes raking over your skin as you adjusted your tank top before grabbing his hand and placing it right over his chest. In turn, you placed your hand on his chest, placing his other hand over yours.

You gazed into his eyes as Leon stared at you in awe, his fingers flexing slightly against your soft skin as you said to him softly, instructing.

"Feel my heartbeat, Leon. Feel the way that I breathe. I want you to match that with me, okay?"

Leon couldn't answer, and he closed his eyes to concentrate. With every rise of your chest, with every beat from your heart, Leon followed. He followed after you like you were the light at the end of the tunnel; clumsy and stumbling his way towards that relief.

He wasn't aware of his pincers wrapping around you as well, his tail curling around your ankle, and his fingers that were cupping your hand became soft; almost as if he would break you if he clutched too hard.

His blue eyes slowly opened, gazing into yours as you stared at him with a soft expression. Your voice was a whisper, but to Leon, it sounded as if you had yelled it from the mountaintops for all of the world to hear.

"I'm right here, Leon. I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

There was an urge within him; a desperate yearning to feel your lips against his and to take refuge within them; within your body, and he felt ashamed. Leon felt ashamed that he wanted to curl himself up inside of you to hide away from the world, and he swallowed thickly, whispering back with uncertainty.

"But what if I do? What if I lose control?"

"I'll pick you up and lift you back out of the snow again."

Leon looked up at you, and he shook his head before leaning down, resting his head onto your shoulder, whispering brokenly.

"I don't deserve this...I don't understand...why...why you're so kind to me."

"It would be wrong of me to judge you...when I know how you're feeling."

Leon didn't realize what those words had meant at the time; thinking that it was just a way to relate to him so he could feel more at ease, and Leon was comforted by the feeling of you resting your head against his own.

"If you're up for it, why don't we eat our cookies and put on some Rudolph on the projector...and maybe I can give you your Christmas present early?"

Leon was surprised, lifting his head from your shoulder.

"You..you have a present for me?"

You nodded before winking at him, wiping the remaining wetness on his cheeks away before standing to refill his cup of cocoa.

"I absolutely do. It's just not done yet."

You giggled and Leon realized with a start that the crochet project you were working on...it was for him. Whatever it was that you'd been working on for the last half hour...it was his. Leon felt emotional again, but instead of crying again, he smiled instead.

When was the last time he had received a Christmas present like this?

"I...I don't know what to say."

You shrugged, smiling kindly at him as you sprayed whipped cream into his cup, grabbing the rainbow sprinkles and a cherry for on top.

"You don't have to say anything. Though, can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

His response was almost immediate, a seriousness coming over him, and you pointed to the fireplace with a wince.

"Can you throw those out?"

Leon cursed as the smell of burnt food met his nose, and he spun to the fireplace where the charred kebabs were burning. Leon felt apologetic as he carefully took the kebabs off of the spit and tossed them out the window. Glancing back at you, you both shared a look of silence before you hummed.

"You know what? I think I'm okay with pizza."

Leon couldn't help but to chuckle at you before asking shyly.

"Can I help?"

Your eyes lit up with excitement, melting the ice around his heart a little more as you nodded.

"Absolutely! Come along, little grasshopper! I have many things to show you!"

As you bustled around the kitchen, grabbing the ingredients that you would need to make homemade pizza, Leon stood there in the living room for a moment; just watching you with a smile.

He was starting to feel human again.