#strongarmed

Leon, Consider this... Whatever you want it to be. I'd do it the sappy Chris Redfield way, but I have a hunch you would scrunch your nose at me and laugh. I also know how you usually feel about commitment and you know that... I'm not getting any younger and how I feel about commitment. So... Is it an engagement ring? A nice ring from your boyfriend? A reason to run out of my house screaming and never return? You decide. Regardless... I want to marry you and I'm downstairs making you breakfast with coffee. Join me when you finally decide to wake up if your answer isn't running out screaming. In which case... I'm eating your bacon, Kennedy. Love, Chris

Scrunch my nose? His first thought is addled as he’s just awoken. Do I really do that? His bleary blue eyes scan the note, trying to process it fully, but his brain has simply latched onto this little bit of himself Chris has noticed and noted. Why does this one line make his heart thump? He feels a hand rise to his mouth and the irritating prickle of tears in his eyes.

The last time—god, it all fell apart, hadn’t it? Adam, Leon thinks. What if I lose Chris the same way? I can’t… But a counter argument rose like a great sea beast, swallowing the doubts in a tsunami of reassurance.

He is Chris Redfield. The only man on earth harder to kill than you are. Leon reaches for the ring and slides it on, delighted at the fit. He holds it up in front of his eyes and feels his pretty lips pulling into a smile. Grabbing the first shirt he finds draped over a chair, he tosses it over his head and heads hastily follows the smell of breakfast.

[ HEAT ]:      while in the middle of a make-out session, sender pushes the receiver up against the wall, unwittingly heating things up even more.

Leon’s hands grope and grasp anywhere they can reach, digging his fingers in, hoping to mark and bruise. Their mouths press together, hard and hungry, a moan escaping his lips only to be swallowed by Chris’s ravenous kiss. Without warning, the big man hoists Leon into his arms and the agent’s long legs wrap around his waist as his back hits the wall. He grunts a little and that too is consumed in the fiery hunger of Chris Redfield’s lips.

Leon makes a show of pushing his chest up, puffing it out, and arching his back, all while somehow maintaining a sultry yet somehow innocent (which makes it worse) look. It's as if he has practiced this in the mirror.

"What... these old things?"

Leon’s lips pull into a smile as Chris’s cover them, pressing hard—firm and deliberate as he always has, without hesitation or force. He knows how Leon is accustomed to being handled and how he prefers to be handled. Without another thought, he wraps his arms around Chris’s neck and draws himself close, grateful for the contact.

A small heart-shaped box of decadent chocolates wrapped in a red bow. Sitting on top of the chocolates is....

In a sealed envelope tucked in next to the heart of the bear is a handwritten note in surprisingly elegant scrawl.

Leon, This just.... Screamed you. I knew you needed it. I'll save the romantic part for later, huh? You and me. Tonight. Candlelit dinner for two. Don't be late. Love, Chris

He is a man of expensive taste and Chris knows this. Leon Scott Kennedy is also a man with a horrific sense of humor, so the bear is also right up his alley, so to speak. He picks it up and smiles, blue eyes sparkling. The chocolates are damned expensive ones and for these, he sits up, only the sheet covering his nakedness.

“Naked in bed eating chocolates…” He muses, nodding to himself. “This, I like.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Leon declared, cleaning the blade of his knife with the corner of his t-shirt. He was spattered with blood, naturally, but the blade had to be clean. The snake insignia etched into it had gathered much of the remainder of the sticky, cherry red stuff and he was cleaning this out presently, disregarding completely the pile of BOW bodies lying about the place—mostly shambling zombies, but more than a few lickers and variants of something else he didn’t recognize.

“Listen, bullets, I’ve got, but they’re not unlimited. Closed-in space?” He held up his knife.

He knew Chris worried. They all worried. But why? In their line of work, time was limited for everyone.

"His wh-hi..his WHAT now?" Chris feels his mouth spluttering the words before his brain can catch up and tell him to regain composure.. and that's just the mention of them. His cheeks, even through his tan, are bright, cherry red and he searches around for some kind of answer that might both satisfy and deflect.

"I'm a professional... you, ah... get used to that kind of thing." Please let that be good enough.