#ygbo

Chapter CW: Death, canon typical gore.

"Roost, Raven One here. I’m at the specified location. Come in.”

“...”

“Roost, this is Raven One. Over.”

“...”

“Roost? …Shit.”

The radio clicks when you turn it off, useless now that you’ve concluded there was truly no signal.

‘No wonder she couldn't reach him’, you think to yourself, readjusting your shoulder harness one more time before continuing to advance through the dark hallways of the underground facility. Some kind of abandoned military base from the time of God knows which war—your brain is too fried to try and figure it out.

It’s been a long day. Your cat woke you up way too early to feed him, you burned your toast for breakfast, missed your metro stop, and then proceeded to have the longest most tedious day of filing reports and answering emails. That was the life of a DSO agent outside of trauma-inducing missions: even more trauma in the form of clunky keyboards and multicolored paper clips.

But right before you were ready to call it a day and finally head home to enjoy some takeout and pass out on the couch, dear old Hunnigan came in with an emergency request—well, more like an order—telling you you need to join your favorite person in the world on his tedious mission after he’d gone MIA.

Leon S. Kennedy.

The one person you’re sure you’d sacrifice just about anything for just to keep around. Your DSO partner, your colleague, your mentor, your friend.

Hunnigan was breaking protocol—Leon wasn't gone for nearly long enough to deploy another agent to get him, and if he was, a team would be sent out rather than a lone person. But she had a hunch that things went to shit, and when Hunnigan has a hunch, you listen.

Especially when it’s about him. You don't take risks when it comes to him.

When you later arrived at the location of the last ping of his whereabouts, geared up with weapons you’re not cleared to take out, you were surprised to find two familiar faces who were coincidentally deployed to the same facility by a different group: the BSAA.

“Jill? Is that you?” you had asked confused when light caught the silhouette of Jill Valentine surrounded by still-warm bodies of fallen guards, blood staining her clothes. You would've been scared shitless if you didn't know and trust her already.

Jill’s eyes widened in surprise as she called out your name, “did Leon manage to call you?”

“No, but Hunnigan said he’s gone MIA and sent me to his last ping. I’m not exactly here on official terms… What are you doing here? What’s going on?”

“Well, look who joined the party,” a voice rang out behind Jill as Chris Redfield came in through a metal door.

“Chris? I take it you two are on a mission? What happened to Leon? Where is he?” you fired up questions as you already started to feel worry settle in your veins.

“He was supposed to go after Adams—the one responsible for this clusterfuck of BOW hell—while we were supposed to take out the incubating tanks. But that was hours ago and he’s made no contact since. Signal seems to be jammed around here,” Chris replied grimly, all traces of humor gone from his tone.

“We couldn't get through to reach the lab yet with all the bullshit we’ve encountered in this place, but destroying those tanks is still the priority if we don't want things to get even worse,” Jill added with an almost apologetic tone before placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, “hey… I’m sure he’s fine, he won't be taken down that easy. But since you're here to find him, just promise you won't do anything too reckless. And find us as soon as you can, I’m begging.”

Your jaw clenched in determination as you nodded, “I’ll meet you as soon as I’m able to locate him. You stay safe too.”

“Start with the west wing through that hallway. We haven't cleared that area yet and I’d guess that's where you’d find him,” Chris gestured to the corridor on your left, and that is all you needed to hear before you left them to go on your search.

You recall Chris's directions and Jill's reassurances as you keep the grip on your gun steady. Walking with quick, measured, steps you try to keep yourself from being detected by roaming guards. Lucky for you they are few and far between, probably thanks to the two agents giving them a hard time and keeping them busy.

You search through the west wing, going through door after door, and ,after subduing a standing guard near a set of double doors silently, you find what looks like prison cells.

Ah. Typical.

As you shine your flashlight through each cell, heart racing from adrenaline, you find yourself hoping—praying—that if you do find him here, he’s somehow still okay.

And the universe delivers, because when the LED’s beam reveals a familiar silhouette in the far end cell, you hear yourself let out a sigh of relief at the sight of him, all limbs attached, and breathing. Bound, gagged, and unconscious on the floor, but breathing.

You direct the light’s direction upwards to see the hinges more clearly and notice bulky rusted door pins. It’s a wonder he’s being kept in such an old place, it means all you have to do is jam away those pins and get the door to unhinge, you’ll just have to use some brutal force and hope no one’s nearby to hear it.

With your trusted knife and more than a little elbow grease, you manage to complete the task, but not without scraping your arm on the rusty door in the process. You’ll have to get a tetanus shot. Again.

The ruckus of the metal gate being pushed and prodded somehow did not wake Leon who’s still unconscious when you come to crouch beside him, removing the cloth gagging him. Your heart aches at the sight of the bruises on his cheeks, and even more so when you lift his eyelids to find pinpoint pupils, a sign of opioid sedation.

You don't waste anymore time. You take out the naloxone from the small medical pouch stripped to your hip, and you hastily bring it to his left nostril and press the plunger, releasing the mist into his airways. “Come on, Leon…” you plead.

A second later, his body jerks when he takes in a sharp gasp, eyes flying open as he’s jolted back into consciousness.

Gently grabbing his head to steady him, you speak softly to his confused state, “hey, hey, it’s me. You’re okay. I’m here.”

It takes him a minute before your words and his surroundings register, blinking rapidly as his breathing evens out.

“What the hell are you doing here, kid?” he asks in a gruff tone as he sits up with a grunt.

You sigh. Because of course that's the first thing he asks.

“I’m here to save your ass, you know, like the capable agent and colleague I am?” you huff before circling around him to cut off the restraints on his wrists.

“You’re not supposed to be here. Did Ingrid send you?”

“Yes, because you’ve been MIA for hours, and clearly she was right to send me. You were overdosing."

Leon tsks stubbornly, “Chris and Jill are here, they would've gotten me out eventually. You didn't have to come.”

You stand up with another huff after freeing him and cross your arms as you look down at him with an exasperated look, “you know a thank you would be nice.”

“It’s not that I’m not grateful, it's that I know you probably broke protocol to get here and put yourself in danger. But fine. Thanks, kiddo.”

You purse your lips and look away, feeling the familiar frustration rising whenever he insists on treating you like some kind of fragile, clueless child. You hate that he still sees you the same as he did nine years ago when you first met. You were sixteen, a powerless teenager—a kid—and he has continued treating you like one nearly a decade later.

Noticing your scowling expression, Leon softens his tone when he extends a hand with a warm smile, “help me up?”

Rolling your eyes, you take his gloved hand in yours and pull him up to a standing position. However, you both quickly realize that may have been too soon post overdose reversal when he stumbles into you and your back hits the wall with his weight pressing on your body.

“Shit… Are you okay?” you ask worried, trying to deliberately ignore the way your heart skips a beat at the proximity, your hands reflexively moving to his biceps to help support him.

Leon’s breath tickles your neck before he pulls back enough to look down at you, one hand on the wall, the other on your shoulder, “yeah, sorry, just need a minute.”

You’re unable to maintain eye contact, feeling like your heart might stop, or you might do something stupid like look down at his lips and lean in for a kiss—

Get it together.

Leon catches your fleeting gaze, a ghost of an amused smile on his face when he squeezes your shoulder, “I am okay,” he murmurs reassuringly.

“I know."

Your answer is curt, even if you do relax a little bit at his reassurance. You know why he is reassuring you. He thinks you're nervous because you're worried for him—which you are—but you're mostly nervous because you've been in love with him since the day he saved you.

There isn't a day that passes by when you don't remember it. That afternoon, when you came home from high school, expecting to find your depressed dad lounging on the couch with a drink like he always did, everything changed when you instead heard groaning noises coming from the upper floor.

You had walked up the stairs with careful footsteps, calling out to your father with a shaky voice and your mind running a thousand miles a minute trying to figure out what the noise was. Nothing would have prepared you to find his standing corpse in the corner.

Unbeknownst to you, your father had turned into a cannibalistic monster after he didn't take the medication that kept his transformation at bay for the previous six years. Since he kept you in the dark about his military work and what he’d endured in Penamstan, you had no idea you’d ever come home to this one day.

It happened so fast, but you remember every second. One moment he was standing there, all gurgling noises and rotting flesh, and the next he lunged after you as soon as you called out a weak ‘dad?’

You never ran as fast as you did that day, your untrained legs carrying you through the house and back down the stairs, tripping on the last step with a thud but quickly scrambling back up for the front door and yanking it open.

He had been right on your tail, way too fast for something that’s supposed to be dead. You recall how your life flashed before your eyes—literally—when he grabbed the back of your hoodie as you got out on the front porch, pulling you for what you could have only guessed would be a generous bite to your neck.

That’s when a bullet whizzed past your head and hit him right between the eyes, sending your zombified father sprawling on the floor—actually dead this time.

And then, you looked up and your eyes met his.

Leon.

It was spring 2006, Leon was investigating the ex Mad Dogs unit members after deducing Jason was about to execute a bioterrorist attack. He thought questioning them would give him more information about Jason and his infection with a possibly mutated T-Virus.

Leon had quickly come to find out all the men of the defunct unit were dead by suicide, except for Jason and your father. So when he came to your home that day to talk to the latter, he came prepared to deal with the worst.

Unfortunately, his intuition proved to be right when just as he parked his car by the driveway and stepped out, a screaming girl came running out into the front yard with an infected closing in her.

Leon’s limbs moved on pure muscle memory when he withdrew his gun and shot the zombie right in the head, and then watched with a tense jaw as its blood splattered on the pavement, brains spilling on the floor.

That was the first time he felt grateful to having lost his parents as a kid. Because as harrowing as hearing the gunshots of the men that took their lives that night through the thin walls of his bedroom was, he’d still prefer that to having them turn into zombies who try to eat him, and then watch as they get put down like rabid dogs.

When you had fallen to your knees in sheer shock and horror, Leon did not hesitate to crouch by your side to tell you ‘you’re gonna be okay’. He couldn't help offering some kind of reassurance, even if he was aware of how hollow the words sounded to a girl who’d just lost her father in the most gruesome of ways possible.

But you believed him as you met his ice blues, his eyes so full of care you had no choice but to cling to his every word, and continued to do so ever since.

Another squeeze to your shoulder brings you back to the present moment, still leaning on the wall with him leaning on you.

“Don’t tell me I’m too heavy for you,” he quirks an eyebrow with a playful smile.

“Damn right, you’re too freaking heavy,” you respond in a grumble, poking his side—still not meeting his eyes.

“That means I need to train your ass some more, then. We can't have you slacking off, rookie,” he flicks your forehead with the hand that was on the wall.

You immediately scoff and shove him—carefully—off you, “I’m not a rookie anymore!”

Leon chuckles, swaying lightly before he finally regains a steady balance on his feet, “you’ll always be a rookie to me.”

“Yeah, you’ve made that clear enough,” you grumble under your breath before handing him a spare handgun, “come on, grandpa, we need to find Jill and Chris.”

“Grandpa?” Leon scoffs in mock offense as he takes the weapon, reloading it with a nonchalant precision that only comes with fifteen or so odd years of experience.

“Well, you insist on still calling me ‘kid,’ so, I shall retaliate. Just so you can feel how annoying it gets.”

“Yeah, except I’m not a grandpa. You, on the other hand, are a kid,” he smirks—way too smug—and then proceeds to walk past you, gun held firmly as he prepares to lead the way.

He always leads the way.

Next chapter.

Little artwork i did for the new chapters of ygbo by the lovely @julymist

Btw i hope it's ok to make fanart of your fanfics, I wanted to make some since the beginning but a month ago university started beating my ahh so I stopped reading ygbo T^T

Today I continued and oM Lord I missed the best chapters.

I also messed up her eye during the lineart but oh well nothing I can do about it now🥀

But yeah hope you like it!!

cw: light suicidal ideation

Warm sunlight filters through the blinds and paints the bedroom in soft, golden stripes. It’s nearly past noon, and Leon slowly stirs awake at the sound of keyboard clicking. He turns to lay on his back, his naked form rustling on the sheets, and he can hear the distant hum of the dryer down the hallway.

When he lifts his head off the plushy pillow, his hair sticking out in ridiculous fashion, he finds you sitting at your desk, working on your laptop. The sight of you with equally disheveled locks, in the t-shirt you were supposed to lend him the previous night, and an adorable look of concentration on your face, makes his lips twitch into a sleepy smile.

“Hey, there, gorgeous,” he drawls in a groggy voice.

You pause your typing to turn to him, and feel your heart flutter at the sight of him in your bed. He looks every bit gorgeous with his half-lidded eyes and growing five o'clock shadow. 

“Good morning,” you chuckle, then swivel in your chair to face him, one leg bent and tucked under you. “Did you sleep well?”

Leon stretches like a cat in an image that reminds you of Binx, the latter likely perched by the living room’s window at the moment. A small grunt of satisfaction leaves the man’s throat. “Mhm, better than I have in months… You?”

“Same here,” you grin sheepishly, then turn back towards the opened tab on the blue light display.

“Why are you working on a Saturday morning?” he asks with a teasing lilt.

“Actually…” you meet his eyes with twinkling ones, “I was just sending an e-mail to Valerie.”

His brows raise in surprise, ideas about the topic of your message already forming in his head but he abstains from coming to any conclusions. 

“Valerie?”

“Yeah,” you nod with a small smile. “I’m letting her know about the position… I won't take it.”

“What?” Leon’s ice blues widen and he props himself up onto his elbows, his muscles flexing with tension. 

Your beam widens, and you find yourself biting your lip in excitement. “I’m not taking the job. I’m staying here… with you.”

He sits up completely, the expression on his face morphing from surprise to worry, and causing your smile to slowly dissipate. 

“With me?” he asks in a low tone.

“Yes, Leon, with you... I just needed you to ask me to stay, you know.”

He goes completely still for a moment, then shifts to sit at the edge of the bed with his back to you, the comforter doing little to cover his naked form. He appears to be in deep thought, his eyes trained on the fluffy rug on the floor.

“Why are you…” your words trail off as nervousness begins to settle inside you. “Isn't that what you wanted?”

You see his back rise and fall with a deep exhale through his nose, his skin still marked with faint, red lines left by your nails. He doesn't turn to face you as he speaks in a somber voice. 

“Are you staying for me, or because you don't want the job?”

The question catches you off guard. You hadn't even really thought of it that way. The position in New York would have been a great opportunity, but it's not like you ever learned to plan anything in your life that did not revolve around him. Your entire career choice was about following him, because you had no one else and you were scared shitless. Plus, he looked cool with a gun.

Now you realize the trap that is his question when he demands to know if you have put any thought into this at all that didn't prioritize him. But how are you supposed to answer that? Should you lie? Say the proposed salary was not enough? Or that NYC is not your preferred scene? Any answer that isn't the truth wouldn’t feel right, and you’re tired of hiding your true feelings from him. Especially after last night.

“I’m staying for you,” you speak in a stable voice, fighting any wavering emotion. “I was leaving for you in the first place.”

His head whips around to look at you past his shoulder, the tightness in his muscles more apparent with every passing second.

“What are you talking about?”

“I was leaving because I thought I needed space… But not anymore. Not if you want me.” You pause, searching his face warily. “You do want me, right?”

Leon closes his eyes with a defeated expression, then rubs a hand on his face in a way that immediately puts you on guard. 

“Kid… This isn't— I didn't want you to stay for me, I wanted you to make the decision for yourself.”

“Well, I am, and I’m choosing to stay,” you assert with a frown.

“For me.”

“For me too!”

“Because of me.”

Sighing in frustration, you turn to look back at the screen where the text cursor blinks at the end of a sentence, its pattern mocking in the way it counts the passing seconds of the heavy silence.

“Why is it bad that you matter in my decision?” you murmur after a while.

Leon sucks in a sharp breath at your whispered question, and he suddenly feels naked, both inside and out. He grabs off the floor the discarded towel he had on last night, then swiftly wraps it around his hips because this isn't the kind of conversation he wants to have with his dick out.

You see him stepping closer to you, but he keeps his distance, stopping a few feet away with a stern face. 

You brace yourself for the worst.

“Look, I understand that my opinion matters to you, and I appreciate that, kiddo, I really do. But you can't let me dictate your life.”

“So you want me to stay but you don't want it to have anything to do with you?” you scoff in incredulity.

“I know that I unfortunately factor in. But I would hope that you wouldn't change your entire career plan just because I said I’d miss you.”

You feel that land like a blow to your gut, a churning feeling in your stomach. Standing up abruptly, you walk closer with trembling fists, trying and failing not to let your emotions overwhelm you.

“You cried last night,” you state matter of factly. “You didn't just say you’d ‘miss me,’ you fucking cried and said you wanted me stay.”

Leon tenses at your accusatory tone, his jaw clenching painfully. “And I also said I didn't want you to make a rash decision in the heat of the moment.”

“Well I’m not in the heat of the moment right now!” you throw your hands defensively.

“But your reasoning isn't good! You can't just drop everything because of me! I’m not—” he cuts himself off, exhaling sharply through his nose to calm his voice into a quieter pitch. “I’m not someone you change your life decisions for...”

You observe him for a moment, then shake your head in disbelief, “well, you already are, so deal with it.” Then, stepping even closer, you notice his breath visibly hitch from your pained features. “I don't understand what you want, Leon... Why are you acting like last night meant nothing?”

“Last night meant everything,” he corrects you instantly, his nose flaring. “You are everything… Which is why I can't have you waste away your life for me. If you want to stay because you like your current position for whatever reason, be my guest. But you can't stay because of me!”

“Okay?” you scoff, your jaw clenching in irritation. “So say I decide to leave—because apparently that's the ‘wise’ option—then what? We just do long distance? Now? After years of seeing you nearly every day?”

Leon’s expression falters when he realizes things are much more serious than he’d thought. You don't just want to stay for him, you want to be with him, and God, he feels his anxiety spike at the mere idea.

“Kid… There is no long distance…”

You look at him confused, waiting for further explanation, but when nothing comes you finally understand. He doesn't want you like that, and you—stupid, naive little you—thought he did just because of his emotional state the prior night.

“Y-you said I’m the only one that you want…Just now you said I’m 'everything,’” your voice breaks despite your best efforts to steady it. “I don't understand.”

His heart thunders in his chest at the sound of your confusion, and he takes a moment to gather himself before reaching a tentative hand to cup your face.

“I meant every word, sweetheart…” His voice is sincere, his blue eyes so vulnerable it could make a stone cry. “But there's something I can’t do and that is keeping you to myself. No matter how much I want to.”

“Leon, that makes—”

“Listen to me,” he interjects. “We get together, and I’ll ruin your life. Even more than I already have, so I can't—”

“What the hell are you talking about?” it’s your turn to interrupt with astonishment. “Why would you even think that way?”

His fingers tighten where they rest on your cheek, something close to anger flaring in his eyes at your obliviousness. But the feeling is directed at his own failure for not protecting you better from himself.

“I killed your father, kid. Nothing I do or say is ever going to change that.”

You blink at his words, feeling your chest tighten at the horrendous memory. The way he retells what happened so bitterly causes a shiver to run down your spine. You knew Leon harbored guilt over that day, but you did not know it was to this extent.

“He was infected… You saved me,” you whisper calmly in hopes to rationalize.

The broken man scoffs harshly, “and then dragged you with me into this BOW hell where you lose a little more of yourself every fucking mission”

That has your teeth gritting, your own aggravation soaring. “I chose this job. I wanted to follow you. You never even wanted me to have this career, Leon, why are you taking all the blame for my own choices?”

He closes his eyes with a head shake, his heart hurting at your naivety. He then places his other hand on your face, as if he needs to ground you so every word registers. 

“Because you had no one else to follow, so you stuck with me... Except you don't realize a drowning person can't save another.”

“I don't care,” you retort in irritation. “I don't care if you don't like yourself, I like you!”

Leon feels a lump form in his throat, and he wants nothing more than to indulge and melt in your arms to let you take all his worries away. But he knows he can't do that. Not to you.

“If you're fighting for me this much already, what's gonna happen later when you’ll grow attached? Y-you might develop feelings… and then, you might do something stupid for my sake and I’ll never forgive myself for it.”

This time, it's you who cradles his face, putting in a bit too much pressure than necessary as you whisper the confession that’s been sitting in your throat for a decade.

“But I’m not gonna grow attached… I already am.”

He stares at you in silence, your words swirling in his head as it tries to make sense of them past his mind’s filters of doubt and self-hate.

“From the day I met you—from the day you saved me,” you continue, feeling tears prick your eyes at the cathartic release of the truth. “I have never not wanted you. You are everything to me, a-and I’m tired of pretending I only mean that platonically, or even physically… I’m— I’m in love with you and I have been since I was sixteen.”

Leon looks at you as if you've just announced you have terminal cancer.  And in many ways, you may as well have said just that. His eyes are bulging out of his head, and he cannot believe what he just heard. Not because he thinks you're lying, but because the truth is searing excruciatingly through his heart. If he had any doubts before about ruining your life, he's certain of it now. 

You are in love with him. You have been since sixteen. 

He blew your father’s brain into the pavement of your childhood home’s front porch, and then you fell in love with him and trailed in his shadows as if he wasn't the grim reaper personified.

The thought makes him nauseous, and a thin layer of sweat forms on his bare skin that makes the sun rays glimmer on his torso. There is a part of him rejoicing that you reciprocate his feelings, however it is devastatingly overshadowed by his consuming guilt.

But the question that makes him queasiest, is whether he inadvertently encouraged this.

His mind races to recollect every memory where he may have accidentally groomed you somehow, the very idea of the possibility making him want to put a bullet in his head.

He never wanted that. He never even saw you like that. Not since last year at that stupid holiday party that he never should've even attended. He’s been feeling shame over his feelings for weeks, but he somehow still fucked up even more than he’d expected.

This is so, so much worse.

His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows thickly the bile rising up his esophagus. His hands tremble where they hold you, and he begins to feel the telltale symptoms of an incoming panic attack—just like the ones he has fought to hide from you for years.

“Kid… you d-don't mean that…” he manages to choke out.

You can see the signs of discomfort on his face clear as day. He looks like he's a minute away from emptying his stomach’s contents all over your shirt, and that has your heart coming to a halt. 

Holy shit, your love confession makes him want to vomit.

You step back from him when you notice his eyes water, and you're certain you’ve never seen him look this distressed in your life. Your own tears begin to fall down your cheeks, your fingers clutching his old top where it frames your body, and you don't even know what to think.

“You don't like hearing that… don't you…” you murmur as a statement rather than a question.

He opens his mouth then closes it like a dying fish out of water. His chest rises and falls in rapid succession despite his best efforts to steady it. He looks like he’s doing everything he can not to crumble on the floor.

“Say something,” you press, feeling your own anxiety engulf your senses.

Leon attempts to speak but he’s not sure how. How does he explain that was the worst news you’ve told him without sounding like a completely heartless piece of shit? How does he tell you that he cares about you too much to inflict his damaged self on you? 

He hates how much it all makes sense now. You were always there, always prioritizing him, calling him, messaging him, remembering his birthday when no one else did, bringing him warm meals to help him recover when no one else cared… You have been treating him like someone precious, and he now understands it was all because you ingenuously fell for him as a teenager. 

“Please just fucking say something,” you interrupt his spiraling as you tredge through your own. Out of all the reactions of rejection you could have expected, looking so pale he might faint from nausea might be the worst.

“I…” he trails off, the words stuck in his throat.

I love you. You deserve so much better.

“I…”

I love you.

“I’m so sorry...”

With that, he walks past you on staggering legs, then heads straight for his clothes that haven’t even finished drying. He yanks on his pants and button up like the devil is on his tail, barely remembering to grab his phone where it had been abandoned along his suit jacket on your couch. He doesn't bother with socks when he steps into his shoes, his hand already reaching for the front door handle in frantic escape.

When his fingers wrap around the cold steel, he pauses for half a second—just enough to hear your muffled sob from inside the bedroom—before he swings the door open and leaps into the hallway faster than his heart can convince him to stay.

Next chapter.

this time things won't fester as long because are moving into the finale rather soon! well soon by my metrics 🤓

cw: mentions of vomit

An odorless vapor releases from the four corners of the room at the end of the ominous countdown, but you don't pay it mind, your head focused on one thing and one thing only—saving Leon.

Holding your breath not to breathe it in and hopefully stall the nerve agent’s debilitating effects, you place your fingers on the keyboard, ready to begin.

The screen flashes with a series of codes you are meant to input, only you did not expect the series to be so long and for the codes to have specific placements within a form you’re meant to fill.

This will take forever.

The realization dawns on you with a gulp, but your fingers start to work nonetheless as you try and fail to ignore the pounding on the door behind you.

Outside, Leon has completely lost it. His palms are red from all the slamming he has done against the immovable steel, and now he has moved on to try and break the glass with anything he might find.

He doesn't care if the mist will seep out to infect him as well, he quite literally would rather die than let you do it for him.

“Kid— Kiddo—” he babbles to himself in a wavering voice as his eyes frantically roam around the place, like calling out to you will somehow keep you safe.

His gaze lands on a fire extinguisher, and he doesn't stall to grab it with shaky hands, just to bang it against the window so hard he feels an electric jolt through his bones.

Smash after smash and the window won't budge. The room is sealed air tight not to let out the compound, and he feels like he wants to claw at the walls to make them yield open so he can get to you.

Every passing second brings him closer to delirium, and he knows—he knows—if this is the end, if this is how you die while he watches, then at least he has a gun he can put to his head. Fuck your sacrifice. He’s not doing this shit without you.

Only a couple of minutes pass of typing out the endless sequence when you begin to feel your eyes burn. There’s beading sweat on your temple, and a bitter, metallic taste is settling on your tongue. Even without breathing it in, the toxic mist has started to affect you, and you know this is only the start.

Your lungs protest when they reach their limit. So, with abnormally shaky hands you reach for the long skirt of your dress to lift it to your mouth, using the silk fabric as a makeshift mask. It won't do much, but it might give you a few extra precious seconds.

You don't dare waste a single moment to look back at Leon who is causing a ruckus, throwing every possible object he can find at the unyielding door.

He tried a metal trashcan, a chair from a nearby room, and now he’s pointing his pistol at the glass knowing fully it will ricochet against the bulletproof material.

Sure enough, it rebounds and grazes his shoulder with a sharp sting, but he barely pauses to acknowledge it before he’s pounding at the door again like a madman.

“Fuck!!” he curses in a broken sob, and takes a moment to watch you inside only to have his heart shatter all over again.

There you are, repeatedly blinking hard against the growing blurriness of your vision. Your muscles have started twitching, your chest constricting with every labored breath. At some point you drop the fabric you were holding against your mouth—it’s useless, and you would rather use two hands to type quickly as long as you're able to.

Leon wipes his tears roughly with the back of his hand, a new wave of determination hitting him at the sight of you still there, still trying. He won't stop trying either.

A sudden idea comes to mind and he sprints before he can even think if it’s a good one.

He reaches the bathroom in record speed, unlocking the special mechanism you had used earlier to keep the guards confined, then kicks the door open with his gun pointed.

The two men inside already have their weapons drawn, no doubt having heard the loud commotion he’s making. He can feel adrenaline pumping through his veins so thickly it's like time slows around him.

Without hesitation, Leon mercilessly shoots the first guard through the chest, the latter’s body falling on the tile with a startled groan. Then, taking advantage of the second man’s shock, he disarms him quicker than he can retaliate.

“With me,” the agent simply grits out, wrenching the worker's arm behind his back and placing his firearm’s muzzle to his temple.

He drags him forcibly back to the control room, every laborious effort feeling like it’s eating at his soul when he can't get there in the light speed he wishes he had.

“W-what the hell do you want?” the guard manages to squeak out, only to be met by a smack to the side of the head with the handgun's handle.

“Open the fucking door,” Leon hisses and shoves him against the metal. 

The man looks at him cluelessly, then peers inside to see the vapor engulfed room and blinking red light. His eyes widen with realization of what's happening.

“I-I can't, badges don’t work during the override!” he gestures to his lanyard.

Behind him, Leon can see you past the man’s shoulder. You have fallen to your knees, every muscle spasming, and breathing faster than a rabbit’s pulse. There's snot and drool leaking down your face in addition to tears, the compound causing an overstimulation in secretory glands. 

The numbers blur together as you fight your own body to continue inputting the correct series. You have to hone every bit of fraying brain power to not enter the wrong code, deleting and retyping every time you make a mistake. 

Each and every cell in your body burns. The nerve agent blocks the very enzyme that allows your muscles to relax, to function, and you can feel yourself reach the very end when the splitting headache you're experiencing goes from throbbing to pounding. You can barely hear yourself think through the pain.

Outside, Leon punches the man so hard he sees double. “Fucking open it!”

The guard brings a hand to his bleeding lip, and in a trembling voice shakes his head in desolation. “I told you, man… The badges don't w—Argh!”

He’s interrupted by a bullet to the thigh, the agent’s furious scowl wild like that of a feral animal in a cage as he glares at him. “I will rip your fucking guts out if you don't open it,” he seethes.

But even as he grips his gun tight enough the stock indents his palm, ready to inflict more harm to force the man to comply, Leon knows his attempts are futile. So when the guard just cowers in fear, shielding his face with trembling arms, he simply grabs him by the hair and slams his head hard enough against the unbudging door that he passes out.

Never has he acted so unnecessarily violent towards anyone, but he’s certain he has officially lost all mental capacity of rationale and logical thinking.

With the bloodied man’s body limp on the floor, all that is left to do is watch you again through the window, resting his forehead against the screen as all hope drains out of him.

You’re throwing up the little contents of your stomach on the floor on all fours, dry heaving and quivering as the last remnants of strength leave you. You try to get back to the keyboard, but fall face first on the tile, your arms giving out from under you.

Leon feels his own knees buckle, but he holds himself up—he won't look away. He wants to watch you until the very end since his company is all he can offer you through the cruelly resolute steel separating you.

After years of vowing he will do everything he can to keep you safe, he has failed miserably. This is the price to pay for holding something precious in his life. He should've known. You were never meant to be tainted by his proximity. He ruins everything he touches, and now you will be added to the ever growing pile of skeletons in his closet. Hurt, destroyed, desecrated, and left to die in a puddle of vomit.

Maybe he never should've returned with ice cream that day.

He can still remember it like it just happened, when the emergency services came to your front porch. He had stayed by your side as you sobbed, a hand on your shoulder because that was the only way he knew how to support the poor teenager whose zombie father he just put down.

Your cries wouldn't stop no matter what measly words of reassurance he gave, but you still sat by him, unmoving even as first responders showed up.

When an FBI agent asked you to get into the ambulance so they could take you for a checkup, you shook your head, then scooted closer to him to his great surprise.

Leon never saw himself as someone who could provide comfort. The last time he had to give a pep talk was an awkward attempt with Ashley Graham, the president’s daughter he was tasked to save. It worked well enough it got her to calm down, but he still cringed at himself later for not doing better.

And yet, his lame “you’re gonna be okay” seemed to be all you needed to hear, because no matter who they brought to talk to you, you stuck to him and even reached for his sleeve when he was about to move away.

“Do you want me to ride the ambulance with you?” he asked quietly as he used his body to shield you from the view of the hazmat suits collecting your father’s corpse.

“Yes,” you responded in a quiet whisper, the first word you ever uttered to him.

And just like that, he was sitting beside you in the vehicle five minutes later, while EMTs checked your vitals and any signs of injury. He heard your name when the workers asked for it, repeating it in his head, and he remembers you stealing a glance his way that would have made him smile if not for the terribly sad situation.

“I’m Leon Kennedy,” he murmured softly while your temperature was being checked. “I’m, uh… a special agent.” 

He distinctly remembers the twinkle in your eye from his introduction.

When you arrived at the hospital, he couldn't go in with you past the intake point, but he made sure to repeatedly tell the staff you weren't infected. He’d know—it’s his job to deal with the flesh-eating kind.

“Are you, um… Are you going to be here when I finish?” you asked in a tiny voice when the nurses began guiding you away.

Leon felt his heart squeeze in that moment, and that's when he knew he would do anything he could to help you. “Yeah, I’ll be here... Promise.”

It was never part of the plan. It wasn't part of his job either. But an hour later, when you were done with medical checks and being escorted around by a fed, he showed back up.

Your eyes lit up when you saw him despite the weariness of your features, even more so when you noticed the two ice cream cones he held in hand.

“I heard the place across the street has decent stuff,” he muttered awkwardly, looking down at the sticky cream dripping down his knuckles and questioning his stupid choice of treat. “I didn't know what flavor you like, so… I got two.”

A ghost of a smile spread on your lips at the sight of the mess he was making on the bleach-smelling floor tiles. Then, with a tentative hand, you reached to grab the cone that looked the most enticing. 

“Thank you… Leon,” you whispered gratefully. From that day onwards, vanilla with rainbow sprinkles became your favorite.

Through the fog of unconsciousness, a tiny voice in your head asks you to get up. You try to listen to it, but find the task impossible. It gets louder, “you’re so close,” it says in an echoey yell, and you recognize its smooth timber, but your brain is too messed up to think of who it belongs to.

When it shouts one more time, you finally manage to raise a shaky arm, your vision entirely blurry and spotted in black when your hand thuds lifelessly on the keyboard and makes it clatter to the floor beside you.

There, with your cheek pressed to the cold tile, you can see the single final step towards hope. If you can just reach far enough, you can press the ‘enter’ key, and it will be okay. You think. You hope.

At least, that's what he said.

A pathetic gasp leaves your saliva leaking mouth when your spasming palm slides across the floor. And then, with a final shuddering breath, your index presses the button weakly.

You can barely hear a muffled robotic voice echoing around you, but the blinking red lights turn into a steady white, and you finally let yourself close your eyes when you realize… You did it. You saved Leon.

Next chapter.

Your breathing has come to a stop, and you would think your heart has too if not for the fact you continue to live. Everything around you slows, and it feels like the air has been sucked out of the room and there is none left for your lungs.

Through the dizzying static of the revelation that Leon has been chipped, you can barely hear Adams’ voice anymore as he continues to speak to his deranged audience. 

Beside you, Leon’s own senses have gone fuzzy, and all his mind can think is how the hell did he miss being injected?

He recalls being hit, drugged, and you coming to his rescue. He also recalls the post-op recovery with you by his side—he was sore everywhere that week, but he never paused to think if any particular spot had been an injection site. Plus, he was cleared by the infirmary at HQ where no such thing had been mentioned.

So, somehow, the fact he has a ticking fucking time bomb of a tumor inside his brain was missed completely for a whole month.

“Leon…” you squeak out in a choked voice, interrupting his spiraling thoughts.

He doesn't answer immediately, gulping hard and letting his eyes land on the timers on the screen. The earliest shows less than twenty-two minutes left, and the latest is at five hours.

He has anything from five hours to twenty-two minutes to live.

“Kiddo, I— We should—” He doesn't know what to say, panic slowly flooding him.

You, on the other hand, are already moving to the computer with trembling fingers, fiddling with the commands to try and find a way to stop the countdown.

At the sight of you so afraid and yet honing your emotions to try and fix the situation, Leon feels himself breaking, but like you, he tries to remain calm. There has to be an override system—he’s sure you’ll find it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you grit out as you search for what you need. It feels like every second passing where you can't find it is bringing you closer to a meltdown as your brain works a thousand miles per minute.

The only other time you felt this kind of terror was nine years ago, and even then you didn't have the added pressure of having to save the situation.

“Hey, hey…” Leon places a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to reassure you despite currently losing it himself. “I’m still here. Everything’s fine. It’ll be alright.”

Taking in a deep inhale, you hum, then resume your search with the steady warmth of his hand on your skin. “I-I’ll figure this out, I promise.”

His expression shatters, feeling like a complete wreck of emotions from your words. “I know, baby, I know… Just don't be scared, okay?”

You only give a nod in response, your eyes flickering to the time again with a shaky breath. Then, you finally find what you're looking for: 'Emergency Override.’

The sigh of relief that leaves you is instant, and you quickly select the command only to be met by a window of text titled with big, red letters.

WARNING:  The Emergency Override is protected by strict safety measures.  Only Tier 5 staff members are cleared to complete the procedure safely.  If you are not a Tier 5 staff member, please refrain from starting the procedure for your own safety.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Leon leans closer to the screen to try and understand its cryptic contents.

“I-I don't know!” you exclaim, before spotting a small clickable link that reads ‘More Information.’ Another pop-up appears, this one an article.

‘The mainframe in the Control Room is the only point of access to the Emergency Override. In order to activate the process, please ensure prior immunization against the TR-67 compound. Then, initiate lockdown to begin the procedure, and enter the series of codes provided to complete the override.’

The text blurs before your eyes as you frantically read it again and again to try and make sense of it, while Leon goes completely still.

“That's a VX derivative…” he whispers with wide eyes, “I didn't even know immunization existed.”

“Wait, VX as in…” your words trail off and you feel your world spin around you.

To stop the countdown, you must be immune to one of the most toxic synthetic chemical compounds—a nerve agent that disrupts the body’s most basic nervous system functions. You guess that starting the process releases it into the room somehow, and that the only way to survive it would involve some precious, secret vaccine currently unavailable to you.

In other words, you can't stop it without perishing. You can't save Leon.

The latter remains stiff by your side, his grip on your shoulder tightening imperceptibly as you turn to him slowly. “W-what… What do we do?” you ask for the second time tonight.

His eyes flicker to the monitors just long enough to read the time—nineteen minutes left—before he slides his palm lower down your arm until he can hold your hand.

“We… We go find Hunnigan…” he nods slowly to himself, “I’m sure we can figure something out…”

He then pulls you alongside him, swallowing thickly as he leads the way knowing his calm façade is barely holding. Your steps are reluctant behind him, and you feel like the reality of the situation is finally settling into your gut like a big, ugly wound.

Leon is about to die.

There is no way to sugarcoat it. He has a chip in his brain ready to go off in minutes to hours, and you have no way to stop it whatsoever.

You think of every possibility, every scenario, from the most hopeful ones to the absolute worst. 

If you're lucky, his chip is part of the last batch and you have five hours to save him, which gives HQ time to intervene with backup. They can arrest Adams and force him to disable the countdown.

If you're not so lucky and his timer is meant to go off in less than nineteen minutes, then there is not enough time to force Marcus into anything. Especially if he is as committed to this ‘project’ as his late wife.

You can already picture it, going back upstairs with a gun and threatening him to stop the attack, just for him to deny it and call for security. There is only so much you can do to persuade someone without a SWAT team.

In the end, you come to the conclusion that there is nothing you can do, and Leon appears to have reached the same understanding if his sunken eyes and pale face are anything to go by.

For years, he has been worried about losing you during a mission, he never really stopped to care about himself. It’s a given that he has thought of dying on the job before, but the idea never crippled him in horror like he’s feeling right now.

For the first time in forever, Leon truly wants to live. For you, and for himself, he wants to stay by your side no matter if you take him or not. You could despise him, and he would still rather live with you than die and leave you all alone in this miserable world.

As he comes face to face with death, he realizes if this is the way he must go, then he would at least want you to have some support during it. He won't let you see him die, so he intends on taking you to Martin and Ferreira, kissing you goodbye if you’ll allow it, then hiding somewhere to die alone like he was always meant to. He only wishes he never ran from your confession the morning prior.

With a squeeze to your hand, his face sports a solemn expression as he pulls you to the exit, and you feel like the second you’ll get past that threshold you might actually scream. To hell with alerting security, you can't accept that he will just die on you while you can’t do anything about it.

You can’t do anything about it… 

The thought has your steps stuttering when he opens the door to lead you out, a violent wave of nausea rippling through you. It’s as if your body refuses to accept this mind shattering reality you have been thrusted into.

You choke on hopelessness, gasping for air that won't enter your lungs, and Leon turns to you with concern. He cradles your face with clammy hands, his own nervousness apparent despite his best efforts.

“Kiddo… My sweet kiddo…” his voice breaks, but he blinks away the tears forming on his lashes. “Listen to me… I don't want you to be scared. You can do this, you’re the strongest person I know… With or without me, you’ll be alright, you hear me? You’re gonna be okay.”

His soft spoken words fall onto deaf ears as you stare into his big blue eyes. Because no, you are not going to be okay without him. That might be the biggest bullshit you ever heard in your life. Leon is your world, and no amount of lying to yourself is ever going to change that. You can't live without him—you simply refuse to do so.

The feeling suddenly makes something click inside you, and your eyes dart to the hallway outside the room, a desperate idea coming to mind.

Maybe you can't save him, but you can at least try.

Catching him completely off guard, you all of a sudden shove him as hard as you can and cause him to fall outside of the control room, his back thudding on the hard floor with a pained grunt.

Leon can barely register what just happened, when you begin to hurriedly shut the door, and it finally hits him—you want to try withstanding the nerve agent to stop the countdown.

“Kid, no—” he whispers breathlessly, scrambling to his feet to stop you from closing the gate, but you move faster than him and slam the door in his face with a thundering noise. It feels like it’s his soul that's been slammed as he watches you through the glass window built into the door. 

Half a second of shock passes, before he immediately tries the lock with frantic movements. But it does not yield, requiring the badge you still have dangling around your neck.

That's when blood curdling terror swallows him whole.

“Kid— Kid, what are you doing?!” he panics as he watches you back away towards the array of screens with tears streaming down your cheeks. “Don’t do anything stupid, open the door!”

He begins to pound on the steel, and you flinch at the sound, but you know you can't do as he says if there's any chance you could prevent his imminent death.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, then turn on your heel and dash to the computer. 

His mind races to figure out how to break in and stop you, and he’s about to make a run for one of the guards held in the bathroom to snatch a badge and return. 

But then, Leon feels his soul leave his body as your fingers hover over the keyboard. “Wait! No, please, wait!”

You hesitate for a split moment, but with a deep, steadying breath, you finally press the ‘start’ button.

A red light suddenly flashes across the room, and there’s a wooshing sound from the door that makes you realize it just shut itself completely in an airtight seal. Then, a robotic voice comes out from the speakers as it issues a warning.

“Emergency Override initiated. You have 15 seconds to cancel the command before the start of the procedure. Please beware of the incoming launch of safety protocols.”

“Cancel it!” Leon shouts with a deafening slam of his fist against the door. His voice has morphed from pleading to furious. “Don't fucking play stupid games, kid! I don't need you to save me!”

“15… 14…”

“Open this fucking door! I’m giving you an order!”

“13… 12… 11…”

“Look at me!” Another forceful slam. “I’m talking to you, look at me!”

You finally dare look back, only to find him with the wildest expression you’ve ever seen on him. He looks like he’s losing his mind.

“10… 9… ”

“You don't get to play the fucking hero! So open this door right now, or I swear—”

His threat falls short. What would he even have to say when you're willing to end your life to save his? 

“8… 7…”

“I’m sorry…” you whimper, your voice hoarse from the tears wetting your face. “I can't— I can't just let you die, Leon, I have to try… I’m so sorry…”

“6… 5…”

“No, no, fuck that—” he breaks, the anger dissipating to make way for desperation. You can see the wetness of his eyes from your spot, his palm coming to rest on the cold glass. “You're being selfish… You don't get to decide this for me—I don't want you to save me!”

“4…”

“Please forgive me, Leon... I-I love you so much.”

“3..”

“Don't do this to me…” a sob escapes him, hope draining out of him until he feels like a shell of himself. “Please don't do this to me…”

“2…”

“Sweetheart—kiddo, please… I’m begging…”

“1… Safety Protocol initiated. Release of TR-67 starting now.”

Next chapter.

cw: suicidal ideation

A sudden zapping sensation at the back of his head makes Leon wince, like something just popped with an electric shock in his brain. He holds his nape in confusion, still watching you through the screen, but then the red blinking lights stop and he hears the same robotic voice from earlier.

“Emergency Override complete. Please allow 30 seconds for decontamination.”

Emergency Override complete… You did it. You actually did it.

The thought brings renewed tears to his eyes as he impatiently waits for the door to unseal itself, the unconscious guard’s badge already held tightly in his shaky grip. 

You can't be dead. You just can't. You can't save him and die doing it. That's the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. There is simply no way he can accept that. Not now, not ever. His hand brushes the gun he tucked in his belt when the thought lingers in his mind.

Finally, the metal makes a wooshing sound, and he taps the key card faster than he can blink before shoving the gate open with frantic force.

There you are, your cheek pressed to the dirty floor, your face wet and swollen, and your arm still outstretched towards the keyboard that’s lying next to you. He thought he saw every kind of horror in his eventful life, but next to this, nothing comes even close.

“No, no…” The whimper that escapes him comes from the bottom pit of his soul as he drops next to your limp body. His palms hover inches from you, like he isn't sure if touching you will somehow hurt you further. But then, his instincts take over, and he pulls you to his chest with a sob.

“Please… Please, God, not you… Anyone but you.” His vision is blurred with hot tears as he brushes the wet strands of hair from your face. He does not care about the mix of snot and vomit staining your pretty features, if anything he just uses his sleeve to wipe it all away so he can see you better.

“My kiddo… My baby…” his bottom lip trembles in despair. He has never known pain like this before, it feels like his heart will stop from sheer anguish as the feeling drowns him whole. He can't breathe, he can't function without you. He doesn't even want to try. It’s you or nothing, and he knows the second he confirms you’re truly gone, that pistol is the next thing he’s reaching for.

With a shaky breath, he leans to kiss your forehead, then your cheeks, before whispering brokenly against your lips, “I-I am so sorry… I love you. I love you so much, kiddo... I love you.”

Finally, he seals his confession with a kiss to your parted lips, and that's when he feels it; a faint breath against his mouth. It’s so light, he wonders if he imagined it, but his fingers frantically search for your pulse nonetheless as hope fills him slowly.

Then, he finds it. Barely there at all, so faint, so slow, he almost doesn't believe it. But you breathe softly again, and that is all the confirmation he needs.

“Please, please, please…” he repeats as he immediately stands to carry you on shaky legs, your head falling back limply when he begins to make his way out of the room. He only prays no ugly bastard comes his way as he’s certain Adams must have been alerted by the override at this point. He’s not sure what kind of feral cruelty he would be capable of at this moment.

Out in the hallway, he darts his gaze around as a mix of hope and dread fills him. He’s not even sure where to go. You’re still alive, but he has no way of taking you to the ER fast enough, and he’s not sure of what he could find in this godforsaken place that can help you. It’s a matter of minutes before he loses you forever.

“J-just hold on, sweetheart, I got you…” he tries to reassure you or himself, he isn’t certain. He decides to go for the stairs and hopes to find a doctor, a nurse, or anyone at all at the gala that can do something he can't do to save you.

Then, he hears a door open at the top of the staircase, and a multitude of footsteps coming down with thudding noise. He feels his heart nearly stop, and in a moment of panic he decides to haul you over his shoulder so he can at least have a free hand to shoot. Because he knows if anyone is intending on stopping him, he’s fucking shooting alright.

“We have entered the underground,” a deep, muffled voice speaks from the upper levels, and the blonde holds his breath. “No sign of Condor One or Raven One yet, but we will continue our search to provide assistance. Over.”

Leon nearly drops to his knees in relief. It's the team you two had called for earlier—they're finally fucking here. Only took about twenty whole damn minutes, but they're actually here.

He tightens his grip on you when he feels the first flashlights blinding his face, the SWAT members freezing in place and barking out an 'identify yourself’ before one of them recognizes him.

“Agent Kennedy. We’re here to assist.”

With a sigh, he lowers you back in his arms to show your unconscious state as he begs with red eyes, “please save her.”

The tickling feeling of something soft on your palm stirs your consciousness awake. Your eyebrows twitch, and your lips purse, before slowly fluttering your eyes open to blue sheets, white walls, and a constant beeping. A hospital room.

Then, your eyes focus and you see him. Leon. His lids are closed in something akin to prayer as he presses small, featherlight kisses on your hand every other second, like he can't stop himself. You try to recollect how you ended up here, and it's only when you see he’s still in his not-so-fancy-anymore-suit that you remember. His jacket is off, his bow tie hanging loose, and the left arm of his dress shirt has been ripped off and replaced by a bandaid on his shoulder. His mess of a state would make you smile fondly if not for the intense look of worry on his face.

“Leon?” you call out hoarsely, and his head snaps in your direction with wide, tired eyes. He stays silent for a moment, just taking you in with a held breath, before tears begin to brim his lashes.

He finally breathes, really breathes, and his bottom lip trembles as he whispers brokenly, “kiddo.”

You have never seen him like this—so distraught he can't stop the shaking of his hands or wavering of his voice. Your heart aches, but then you remember how you almost lost him, and you know that his survival is all that matters to you at the moment. He’s here and he’s alive.

When he sees the ghost of a relieved smile etch itself onto your weary face, Leon finally breaks and all sense of self control goes out the window when he abruptly crashes his lips to yours. His hands cradle your face frenziedly, thumbs rubbing over the tears beading at the corners of your eyes, his own staining your face as he deepens the kiss.

All you manage to do in return is cling to him like a lifeline, your fingers crawling up his nape to hold onto his mess of a hair. Neither of you can stop kissing, mixing breaths, saliva, and tears, until he finally pulls back just for his eyes to roam your features.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers barely audibly, and your chest tightens further.

“For what? You didn't do anything wrong…”

He shakes his head, sniffling pathetically before he reiterates, “I did so much wrong… I’m sorry for everything—from the start. I’m sorry about your father, about not stopping you from getting into this job, about not protecting you from fucked up missions…”

You want to protest like you always do, but the pleading look in his eyes lets you know this is something he needs to say. So, you silently watch him take a steadying breath and lower his gaze before continuing.

“And I’m sorry that— that you somehow fell for me out of all people and that you think my life is worth sacrificing yours…” 

Leon has to force himself to meet your eyes again, fighting the debilitating shame and guilt eating him whole. But as he should have expected, there is no stern judgment in your eyes, only boundless devotion that makes him choke. He can't believe he never noticed it before—your adoring gaze—it's so damn obvious, and you’ve had it from the very start.

When you stay quiet, mercifully letting him continue in his wallowing despite knowing you disagree with every word, he finally feels the courage to say what he really wants to say.

“But what I'm most sorry for is not telling you how much you mean to me, sweetheart…” He shifts closer, now sitting on your bed with his weight dipping the mattress rather than hovering over you. Still, his thumbs stay rubbing your cheeks gently. “I’m sorry for not saying it back because I was too scared and stuck in my head… But I don't care anymore when I nearly lost you... I-I love you, kiddo, and that is all that matters to me now.”

And there it is, the confession you waited so long for you nearly grew grey hairs over. Leon loves you just like you love him, and he’s finally fucking saying it without letting his guilt come in the way. You want to scream, you want to jump—and you would if you weren't strapped to an I.V and a stern agent who would berate you if you did.

But still, just because it's too fucking good to be true, you have to make sure he really means it.

“Love like you love Sherry or— or Chris, or you know… love?”

A smile finally appears on his face as he huffs out a small chuckle through his drying tears. “First of all, I don't love Chris, I hate his ass,” he pauses to hear the delightful sound of your giggle, then leans to rest his forehead against yours. “And second, I love you like I have never loved anyone before… I say this without a doubt, kid: you are it for me. You're the person I want to wake up to and go to sleep with everyday.”

“Wow…” you reply with wide eyes and he laughs, finding you impossibly adorable. He then leans in just to brush his lips against yours.

“But just to not leave any room for doubt,” he whispers, his hot breath tickling yours. “I am in love with you, and I will do just about anything if you’ll have me.”

Instead of answering with words, you close the distance separating you with another kiss, this one even sweeter knowing you love each other the same. He lets out a desperate groan and darts his tongue to lick at the seam of your mouth. Toothbrushing be damned—you’re letting him tongue kiss you if it's the last thing you’ll do.

Leon shifts again to lay completely beside you on the crammed hospital bed, sliding an arm to wrap around your waist to pull you somehow even closer as he continues kissing you sloppily. It's slow, wet, and so sensual it's making his brain short circuit, and he knows for a fact the only thing stopping him from doing more is the public place you are unfortunately located in. Well, that, and a promise he still wants you to make.

Pulling back with a heaving chest, he looks every bit gorgeous with flushed cheeks, blown pupils, and swollen lips. From the way he stares at you, you can tell he thinks you look just as breathtaking.

“I do have a condition…” he murmurs softly, brushing your hair out of your forehead with utmost gentleness.

Quirking an eyebrow, you huff in mock offense.“I thought you were the one doing the begging, not the one laying down stipulations.”

“Right, right… And I am begging. On my hands and knees even, if you want me to.” He whispers that with a husky lilt, and you can tell the little shit knows what his proposition is doing to you. But then, his expression morphs back to something serious. “I want you—need you—to promise to never, ever do that again.”

You sigh in sulkiness, looking away with a grumble. “Do what again?”

“I’m serious,” he immediately retorts, holding your jaw gently to make you face him again. “Promise me, kiddo. No more sacrificial heroics to save me, or anyone for that matter… It was a close one, and I don't think my heart can handle something like that again. I can't live without you—let’s make that clear.”

Begrudgingly, you nod just because you know you would want the same in his position. Though, deep inside, you’re not sure you would remember the promise if another similar situation arises. It’s not like you acted out of anything but pure instinct.

“Fine… I promise. But you have to promise me something too.”

Sighing in relief, Leon kisses your cheek as he smiles, “anything, darling.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, but you keep a petulant pout on your face as you give his waist a squeeze. “I want a Binx doodle everyday. And a daily vanilla cone with rainbow sprinkles too. Non negotiable.”

He laughs, bright like sunshine and lollipops, and it makes you melt all the more into his hold like a lovesick fool.

“Fine. Will do. But never get mad at me again for calling you a kid, you little brat.”

Next chapter.

aaaand he said it 🥹 he finally said the whole truth, my sweet mentor ugh i love him so much, he really went through it

cw: mention of hypothetical violent infant death

Once the elevator reaches the secret floor, you’re met by a hallway with vintage, wine-colored carpet and various art paintings lining the dark walls. The place looks old, which does not come as a surprise considering the hotel’s age, but everything seems to be maintained with utmost care.

Leon keeps himself one step ahead of you in a protective stance, his fingers twitching for a gun he doesn't have, and his body missing the heat of yours now that he’s forced to put distance between you. He’s not sure where this is leading, but he has a bad feeling growing in his chest. 

To make matters worse, the signal here seems to be nonexistent—your attempt to call Hunnigan through your bracelet having failed miserably. You can't go back for fear of being detected, so with no choice but to advance, both your steps are careful yet hurried as you continue down the long corridor.

After passing a few gates that wouldn't open without special codes—Pop-pop’s birthday could only get you so far—you finally come across a set of double doors with a plaque on the wall that reads ‘Viewing Room.’ Observing it closer, the golden slab seems brand new in contrast with the place’s antique appearance, like it had just been installed there not too long ago.

With your interest peaked, you watch Leon try the handle, and to your surprise, it yields open. He keeps an arm outstretched in your path that signals you to stay back as he peeps through the crack and frowns at whatever he sees.

You can’t wait any longer, so you slide under him and peek as well, prompting him to huff. But, he doesn't say anything considering the room inside already has a couple of people who appear to be waiting staff. From your spot, it looks like a home cinema. A luxurious one, with comfortable leather recliners and trays of food and drinks on small tables—a cinephile's dream. 

But what makes you frown along Leon is what's playing on the big screen. It doesn't show a movie, or a show, or whatever documentary aristocrats are interested in. Instead, it’s a split display of multiple news channels—all the main ones, in addition to local stations of the DMV area. 

You would think it's simply an idle screen to prepare for the night’s show, but it seems a deliberate choice as each broadcast has a quadrant surrounding its frame that reads a countdown timer of about one hour. 

A timer in a secret villain lair can never mean a good thing.

Eddy’s words suddenly echo through your mind, ‘you will find out about it tomorrow—everyone will.’ Whatever is planned to happen tonight, seems to be important enough to be relayed by national news, and that has your heart racing in apprehension.

“What do we do now?” you whisper at Leon, fully aware of how you always seem to seek out his guidance in times of stress.

He looks at you with gentle warmth, a familiar feeling of adoration spreading through his chest at the sight of you. But his expression quickly morphs into something more serious as he thinks through the next step. 

The choice is made for him, however, when incoming footsteps are heard, no doubt those of the guests that were upstairs. He grabs your hand and leads you where the hallway takes a sharp turn, keeping a secure grip on you as he presses his back on the wall and you mirror his movement.

From there, you hear chatter of various voices, different conversations taking place at the same time. They seem to be heading towards the viewing room, and you strain to pick up on any valuable piece of information.

“I can assure you, you will be amazed by its effectiveness,” a male voice speaks and Leon peeks past the corner just enough to spot Adams. “I was explaining before to Eddy—who seems to be running late, by the way—about how conclusive the trials have been. Even if we were interrupted during that last batch.”

“I’m sorry again about your wife, Marcus,” a tall man replies, and gestures to the scientist to head inside the room. From his amber locks, the agent can guess it's Eddy’s brother.

“Thank you, Rob… It hasn't been easy…”

After that, the conversation grows muffled as the men disappear from the hallway with a couple more guests following. You stay quiet, still holding hands with Leon, until quietness returns and the door shuts.

“He’s demonstrating 'effectiveness,’” the blonde sighs in exasperation. “So I guess they're planning on testing the chips… Which means people are in imminent danger if that timer is anything to go by.”

“Why do rich people suck ass so bad?” you huff, and he responds with a squeeze to your palm.

“I don't know, kiddo, but this shit never ends…”

Leon knows an hour is an awfully short amount of time, and the DSO needs to be alerted as fast as possible to try and prevent what could possibly be a bioterrorist attack. He has no idea how many people are at risk, but those screens showed various locations in the area, including D.C. It’s bad enough if even one person gets their brains turned into mush, let alone multiple.

“Wait, look,” you suddenly interrupt his thoughts with a pointed finger.

Down the hallway, a red ‘EXIT’ sign shines by a gate to your great relief. As soon as you’re out, you can call Hunnigan, and backup can be brought in to fix the situation.

This time, it's you who pulls Leon along, and he feels his heart stutter as you lead the way with your focused expression. He knows that deep inside, you feel guilty about the earlier moment with Eddy, even though it was him who inserted himself in your plan. He has to admit, though, he could get used to holding hands with you on missions—he just hopes he doesn't have to deal with any more involuntary cucking as a trade-off.

Pushing the heavy door open, you find yourselves in an emergency staircase and sigh of relief. Even villains seem to be aware of fire safety. But as you’re about to ascend to reach back a level with signal, you notice a sign with an arrow pointing downstairs: ‘Security.’

“Do you think there's camera feeds of this place down there?” you raise an eyebrow at Leon, and he already knows your plan.

“Probably… But before we do that, we call Ingrid first.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

Fifteen minutes later, HQ has been informed when you were able to catch radio transmission up the stairs, and you're currently making your way back down knowing a team will arrive soon enough to further investigate. For now, you’re just grateful no one is present in the vicinity.

Despite Leon’s protests asking you to leave to go find Martin and Ferreira, you stubbornly insisted on following along, especially with the timer in mind.

“I don't have time to go find them and then get back down. I’m sure the emergency doors are locked anyway, because then anyone would be able to get in here.”

The agent rolls his eyes as you continue on your tangent on why your presence is necessary, and only stop once you reach the lower level and immediately find a guard scrolling on his phone by the entrance.

You both freeze in place, and the man slowly lifts his head with a confused expression. “Are you with the party? Sorry, but this is a restricted area.”

“Oh, so sorry! We were looking for the, uh, washroom,” you mumble out a lie.

“In the fire escape?” He arches a brow and straightens his posture. Eyeing you in suspicion, he then focuses on the blonde as if sizing him up, before slowly reaching for his holstered gun.

A beat passes where no one moves, until, suddenly, Leon lurches to land a fist square on the man’s jaw, knocking him down faster than he can withdraw his firearm. 

“Jesus Christ, Leon!” you gasp, eyes wide as you watch him lower the man’s unconscious body to the floor.

“Too much?” he chuckles lowly, then grabs the guard’s weapon and badge. “Couldn't risk it.”

You shake your head, and yank the ID tag from his grasp before touching it to the door’s lock so it opens with a beep. “That was the old cop in you that came out just now.”

“Hey! I’m trying to keep us alive here,” Leon scoffs, dragging the limp body inside as you hold the gate open for him. “Plus, we only have like…” a pause, and he checks his watch with a grumble “...forty minutes left. So move it, rookie.”

Huffing and puffing, you help him settle the man in a supply closet, moving cleaning supplies out of the way and taking care to immobilize his wrists behind him with his own tie. 

Once done, you both stand with an exhale, the agent appreciating your handy work of the makeshift restraints.

“I taught you that one,” he grins proudly, and you nudge his elbow with a soft smile.

“You taught me everything.”

A warmth settles in his chest at your words, and as he watches your expression, he can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia at the way you still look so much like your younger self. You grew up, your features that of a woman rather than a girl, but your heart has remained unchanged—devoted as ever.

He looks back down at the guard, at the way you just helped him tie up an underpaid worker who is probably just doing his job, and a wave of that familiar guilt hits him again. 

The worst part is he doesn't even feel that bad for the passed out man. He probably knew his employers are shady people, so it's kind of on him for working here in the first place… No, he feels bad for you. For the fact you even have to be a part of any of this to begin with.

“Sometimes, I wish I didn't,” he whispers before he can stop himself.

You frown at his words, hurt blooming in your heart at his apparent regret over having you under his wing. You subconsciously take a step away from him, crossing your arms protectively.

“Are you still on about me picking the wrong job?” 

Leon winces at the bitterness in your tone, but he won't lie to you. Not when he has so many things he needs to make right.

“You know I will never change my mind when it comes to that.”

He gives you one more lingering glance, before walking past you and back out into the hall of the security floor. You follow silently, ruminating on your own thoughts as you try to figure out once again his mysterious emotions.

“But you still helped me…” you point out quietly. “You still used every card in your deck to help me make it up until here.”

He pauses, turning to you with a melancholic smile that nearly makes you want to cry from how sad he looks. You hate to see him so seemingly sorrowful simply because of the career choices you made.

“And I would do it again if it makes you happy, kid,” he murmurs, his deep voice barely audible in the eerie place. “I would do anything for you, you know that, right?”

Sighing from an odd mix of relief and pain, you nod with a small smile. “I know… And I would too.”

Leon doesn't like how easily you return his promise, but he knows your love for him runs deep, and for that he is infinitely grateful—despite how much the guilt it causes burns.

A short while later, you were able to lock two more guards in a bathroom while they were using the urinals. A handy, specialized door wedge did the trick—compliments of Hunnigan. As for their radios, you stuck a small signal jammer on the wall that should be enough for a few feet radius. Finally, Leon started leading the way towards the controls, gun in hand, with the distant banging on the bathroom door serving as background noise.

You’re able to view inside the desired room through a thick glass window on the metal gate. It looks empty. Good. You then use the badge on the card reader to let you both inside.

What you expected to be a regular, boring security room with a few camera feeds and old desk chairs, turned out to be sterile white walls and sleek command panels with a thousand buttons. This is all most certainly recently built.

“What even is this place?” Leon frowns, his eyes landing on an array of screens.

Walking closer, you discern random numbers, location names, and multiple countdown timers. None of it really makes sense, but on one of the monitors you find the camera feed you were hoping for of the gathering upstairs.

“There,” you point and move to try and figure out the control panel to get it to play sound. It takes a short while, but you seem to finally get a hang of how the computer system operates.

From your peripheral vision, you notice Leon watching you intently with a small, appreciative smile and he can't help but compliment you. “You know you’ve always had a knack for these things.”

“The one thing you didn't teach me,” you tease and he rolls his eyes playfully.

A moment later, and sound finally comes through so you’re able to listen in on the group of elites who appear to be watching Adams speak as he seemingly delivers a speech.

“—with staggered releases, we’ll watch public reaction slowly increase into panic, which is our goal of course. But this is first and foremost a test run, so all you lovely ladies and gents can decide the worthiness of the product.”

Through the grainy quality of the monitor, you see the tall redhead from earlier, Eddy’s brother, straighten in his seat. “Can you explain the details of the plan again for those unfamiliar.”

“With pleasure,” Adams smiles crookedly, then readjusts his red tie before continuing. “Once we have the reaction desired, we simply offer the solution to the problem: a preventative cure.”

You frown, leaning closer to listen to the man spilling the valuable secrets you have been seeking, and Leon seems just as intrigued as you.

“You see, the goal is for this to be sold as a virus rather than a targeted attack. Which is why the strikes will happen within specific areas, to simulate the spread of a disease that only we have the ‘vaccine’ against.”

“But there is no vaccine,” a woman concludes at the back of the room.

“Correct. We will administer placebo injections, but in reality we can disable the M2423—or the chips—remotely… As long as we hit focal areas, like our beloved capital, the threat will be taken seriously enough that a cure for this new, deadly and contagious 'disease’ will be the number one sought after solution.”

There’s a silence in the room that matches yours and Leon’s. You can feel your heart beating in your temples from adrenaline at hearing the terrible plans these deranged people have for the night.

Edd Chastain is the one who speaks next after blowing out cigar smoke—seemingly a family favorite. “How did you get these things inside of them again?”

“We had different hospital locations tamper with common vaccines and shots—flu, MMR, hepatitis, vitamin K etc.”

The last mention has you freezing in place, your heart lurching in your chest and prompting Leon to look at you warily.

“What is it?” He steps closer, his frown deepening.

“Vitamin K… That’s given to newborns,” you whisper in shock. “I-I remember Claire explaining this to me when Gabby was born. They’re—fuck, they're putting brain exploding chips inside fucking newborns…”

Before the agent by your side can process the stomach churning news, Chastain speaks again in an arrogant tone.

“This sounds all fine and dandy until they can trace the injections back to you. Then what?”

Adams purses his lips, but he smiles nonetheless. “No worries, my team and I have started this process many months ago thanks to our generous early benefactors such as you, Mr. Chastain... It would be virtually impossible to conclude that a vaccine someone had last spring is the reason for their sudden demise now.”

“How many targets tonight?” the woman in the back asks.

“We have eight transmitters ready to release the sound frequencies that will trigger the bursts, and two targets for each. Which means sixteen total.”

“Sixteen people is not a lot. I don't see how this will prompt the government to want to rapidly invest in a cure,” Edd waves a dismissive hand, making his golden watch catch in the dimmed light.

You see Leon visibly twitch at the nonchalance exhibited by the participants of this unhinged conversation, and he seems to have officially reached his limit.

“Alright, fuck these wastes of oxygen,” he grits out, tightening his hold on the borrowed gun. “I’m running upstairs to let HQ know about this bullshit, and then I’ll come back to deal with these fuckers myself.”

“Count me in,” you mutter, and the both of you are about to turn on your heels when Marcus Adams’ voice comes through again.

“Well, Mr. Chastain, you’ll be happy to know I have a target that is sure to cause a stir… You see, the day my beloved Caitriona sacrificed herself for this project—after some government lackeys interfered—we were able to momentarily get a hold of one of them by subduing him…” he pauses, letting suspense fill the room before continuing. “If my deductions are correct, we have infected a DSO worker—meaning someone who operates directly under the president. Now if that doesn't get their attention, then I don't know what will.”

Time completely halts around you when you realize the agent they 'momentarily got a hold of’ is none other than the one standing beside you, his blue eyes wide in shock as he comes to the same conclusion.

Next chapter.

cw: sexual tension, drugging.

Eddy, not given the permission to kiss the agent, settles for nuzzling into the blonde’s neck with a hand stroking up and down his thigh. “I should’ve expected this from Barry’s cousin—that asshole is a freak,” he chuckles into Leon’s collar.

The latter is tenser than a rock, and you wonder how the drunk man can't tell how uncomfortable he must be. Which is why you don't refuse him when he reaches for your thigh for purchase, his fingers digging almost bruisingly into your skin.

“Yeah… Barry.” Leon feels his eye twitch when the other begins to trail his fingers over the buttons of his shirt, and he feels you lock up next to him. When he steals a glance your way, it's you who appears to be seething in jealousy this time. The murderous look you're giving Eddy almost makes him smile in satisfaction.

The redhead starts to unbutton Leon without missing a beat despite his drunken clumsiness. He then pulls back just to look at you both with a hungry grin. “You know, you two make a really hot fucking couple… You should come by for Swingers’ Night.”

“Swingers’ Night?” you both gasp in unison, and Eddy laughs at your synchronization again.

“Well, yeah, it was Barry who started it. We do one every month, and he's always the one going the craziest. Fuck, just thinking about it gets me worked up,” he groans, tightening his grip on Leon’s thigh, who in turn tightens his hold on yours. “You know how kinky he is, right, Mr. Crawford?”

Leon feels the urge to die on the spot out of cringe, but he knows he can't leave you in the presence of this fucker, so he attempts to keep his calm. How is he even supposed to answer that question? If this Barry dude is meant to be his cousin, shouldn't he not know about his kinks?

“Uh… Yes?” he responds awkwardly and feels you place a hand on his in reassurance. He can breathe slightly better now.

Eddy, who has loosened Leon’s bow tie and opened three of his buttons already, finally pauses as his inhibited brain seems to catch up.

“You don't fuck your cousin, do you, Logan?”

The room quiets into a tense silence and it's all you can do not to laugh—or cry—at the weirdest fucking question Leon must have ever received. You squeeze his hand in encouragement and watch him take deep breaths to steel himself.

“No.”

His answer is simple, but under it lies a very real threat to poor, oblivious Eddy who's just looking for a good threesome with hot strangers. He just so happens to also be a black market investor in illegal BOW business.

“Cool, cool…,” he nods slowly, “I mean, not that I would judge or anything. We’ve all been there.”

This time, you do laugh. Because fuck, how are you supposed not to laugh at that. It’s strained, and breathless, and you try to stop but you can't bring yourself to from the sheer craziness of the situation. Only when Eddy resumes unbuttoning Leon does your smile disappear and you abruptly reach for his wrist out of sheer instinct.

Both men turn to look at you expectantly, and you rack your brain for something to say then release him to finally speak. “Is Swingers Night what you meant by ‘where great minds meet and great things happen’?”

Please say no, please say no.

“What? No,” Eddy laughs, then places the cigar he had put on the ashtray into Leon’s mouth who takes it without protest—because at this point nothing fucking matters anymore.

You sigh of relief, then press further, “so what is it?”

The redhead seems to ponder in hesitation for a moment, but the sight of Leon blowing out smoke from his flared nostrils seems to do something to him—which you can definitely relate to.

“Okay, okay, I guess I can let you in on a little secret… See that tall cabinet over there?” He gestures with his chin to a set of double doors that blend into the walls. “There's no wine in there. In truth, it's actually a little elevator.”

“Elevator?” your eyes widen, and Leon frowns further.

“Yes. It takes you to a, um, you could say secret floor—where we hold private events, like the one that will start in a couple of hours… But, naturally, you can’t ride it without bypassing security measures, like a special code for example.”

Holy shit. Maybe Leon should seduce villains more often if this guy is spilling this much out just from a bit of groping.

“Ah, I’ve said too much, dad wouldn't like it,” Eddy chuckles, then shakes his head in exasperation. “Then again, that old schmuck isn't here to dictate everything I do with my life, is he?”

The blonde agent looks him over in something akin to pity, the taste of bitter tar lingering on his tongue. “No. He’s not.” 

At that, Eddy takes the cigar back from Leon, and lets out a small moan when he places it between his lips. “Let's not worry about all that right now. Him and my brother can be the perfect little father and son duo, while we should continue this in my room so we’re not interrupted.”

You exchange a look with your partner that says everything: we need to get that secret code. So, with a shared nod, Leon turns to the man with a determined expression.

“Where’s your room?”

Thankfully, it only takes about eight minutes for Eddy to take you to his suite, and only because he took forever drunkenly looking for his key card in all his fancy pockets.

Once inside the luxurious room, you're about to discreetly discuss with Leon the next step, when he suddenly shoves the man on the plush bed with a bit too much force. The latter gasps as his body bounces on golden pillows, but his surprise quickly subsides to make way for excitement.

“Getting impatient, handsome?”

“It’s ‘sir’ to you,” Leon grumbles, and you bite your lip to hold back a snicker—and maybe a moan too.

With an inconspicuous motion towards your purse, he shifts to cover your next movements with his broad chest as he climbs on the bed beside the redhead.

“You got a wife, Eddy?” he huffs as the other reaches to stroke the agent’s half uncovered chest.

“Divorced. She couldn't keep up with me.”

In the meantime, you move to stand at the french commode and place your bag and wine glass on its marble surface. You open the purse to take out a tube of lipstick that you unscrew to reveal a pale, yellow powder inside, grateful it went completely undetected earlier by security.

Stealing a quick glance at the men on the bed, you find Eddy’s hands on Leon’s waist, trying to pull him closer, and that only prompts you to move faster as an intense mix of jealousy and protectiveness floods through you.

You empty the sodium pentothal—colloquially known as a ‘truth serum’—into the wine glass you still didn't drink, and then swirl the liquid for the drug to mix in seamlessly. Its effects start rather quickly, and it makes a person relaxed, languid and talkative—which doesn't guarantee them spilling concealed truths, but it certainly helps.

“Is the pretty doll joining too or is she just gonna watch?” the aristocrat grins from his spot.

Leon forces himself not to snap, but you quickly come into view and join them on the bed. He lets out a low scoff at how the idiot looks like he’s having the time of his life between you both.

“I’m right here,” you murmur huskily and pretend to sip from your glass again, before bringing it to the redhead's lips. “You weren't kidding about the wine. Looks like you have excellent taste, Mr. Chastain.”

The latter giggles, then tilts his head for you to tip the drink back for him to ingest. Then when his mouth fills, he’s about to retreat when Leon’s hand grips the back of his hair and forces him to stay in place.

“Be a good boy and drink.”

That has you feeling things again, and a part of you can't help wondering if Leon ever gets this domineering in bed—not that you're willing to find out after he completely broke your heart. You’re not ready to risk getting close to him again knowing he doesn't want you the same way.

Your sorrowful thoughts are interrupted by Eddy’s hand on your wrist when he's had more than enough gulps of the spiked drink, and you finally relent. He coughs a bit, and wipes his mouth with a clumsy hand.

“Do you two do this often?” he slurs with a chuckle.

“You mean two-teaming little freaks who like to bite more than they can chew? Yeah, more often than you’d think,” Leon rolls his eyes.

You give him a pointed look and he just shrugs in response when the other man giggles again. He seems to really believe the play you've orchestrated. 

“This is so great,” Eddy beams, then attempts to pull you both closer, though his arms are already growing sluggish. “I’m usually left in the cuck chair.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Leon scoffs, and this time you slap his bicep.

“Stop,” you whisper yell like a stern teacher.

He huffs at your berating gesture then shrugs. “What? He’s already pretty much out of it.”

“He doesn't need to know that!”

“What are you guys saying?” the man mumbles between you, and when you both look down at him, you see the ways his eyes are heavy-lidded and his body is completely relaxed.

He’s out of it alright.

“Hey, Eddy…” you begin with a husky voice, then tilt your head as you cut to the chase. “What was it you said earlier about the elevator in the private lounge? Something about a code?” 

“Hmph…” he answers with a grumble, “I want you to sit on my face, please.”

The scoff that leaves Leon is unabashed, and he suddenly wraps a hand around the man’s collar. “What the hell did you just say?”

Eddy moans, “y-you can fuck me at the same time,” his hips buck up into the air.

You watch the agent stare at the man in complete disbelief before he releases him and turns to look at you with incredulity. “I can't do this shit.”

At that, the redhead suddenly clings onto him with what little strength he has in his sluggish limbs, and he looks downright pathetic when he begs with pleading eyes.

“Wait, no, don't leave. You’re so— you’re so fucking hot, I-I’ll do anything, sir, please!”

“Anything?” you raise an eyebrow, your eyes flickering from his to Leon’s exasperated features.

“Anything,” Eddy reiterates with frantic nods. “Please just stay. Don't want daddy to leave.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Daddy?!” Leon recoils, “you’re like, older than me, dude, what the hell?!”

There is no force strong enough in the universe that could have stopped you from bursting out laughing, cackling loudly at his outraged expression paired with the other’s infatuated look.

Leon scowls, muttering a low ‘not funny’, though he can't help but feel his heart warm at the sound of your free laugh that he missed hearing so much.

“To his defense,” you strain between uncontrollable chuckles, “daddiness isn't really about age—more like a lifestyle.”

He narrows his eyes, his irritation shifting from the redhead to you, “and what the hell do you know about all that?”

You giggle some more at his face, and when your gaze drifts down, you find Eddy in the middle of falling asleep. “Oh, shit!” your laughter stops immediately as you reach to tap his face. “Eddy! Eddy, don't fall asleep, you need to tell me about the code!”

“Da…ddy…”

“Your old man really did a number on you, huh?” Leon mutters under his breath before hauling the man up by collar into a sitting position. “Alright, buddy, you want your daddy so bad? Well daddy’s here, and if you don't start talking he might leave again and love your brother more. Because unlike you, he doesn't disappoint the family.”

The redhead whines at that, scrambling to hold onto Leon, and with a broken whimper he whispers, “w-what… what do you want me to say?”

“The code, Eddy. Tell me the fucking code for the elevator.”

“Oh… that…” he chuckles sleepily in the agent's grip, and you hold your breath in hopes he will finally give you what you need. “It’s Pop-pop’s birthday… 0905, uh, 12… God, I miss Pop-pop.”

You immediately repeat the sequence in your head until you memorize it, and then watch as a look of relief washes over Leon’s face—it wasn't all for nothing.

He releases Eddy and lets him drop back down, then pulls the golden duvet over him with a sigh, “sweet dreams, asshole.”

And just like that, the man passes out to both your great reliefs.

After grabbing Eddy’s key card, you and Leon make your way back to the private lounge swiftly, and though he doesn't say a word you still notice the tension in his shoulders.

Once the door beeps and you're both inside, he strides straight to the earlier directed cabinet, and notices a barely visible card slot between the door gaps. He inserts the key there, still not saying a word, then watches as the doors open to reveal the elevator like promised.

“Update Hunnigan on the situation and go watch Adams, I’ll go check out what this thing’s all about.”

He begins to punch in the code on a number pad when you step closer. “You can't go alone. What if it's dangerous down there?”

Leon pauses with his thumb hovering over the buttons, and he turns to you with a stern look. “Kid, don't start,” he snaps.

Exhaling sharply through your nose, you cross your arms defensively. “No, no. You don't start. We’re not doing this again.”

He scoffs, mirroring your posture. “I don't think you get to make demands after blindsiding me like that.”

Feeling a mixture of guilt and irritation, the latter wins when you remember how his stubbornness almost cost you valuable intel. And all just for some stupid ego? No. You’re not accepting that after he wounded yours.

“Yeah, well, I don't think you can either after yesterday.”

Leon suddenly goes quiet, your words hitting like a gut punch, and he knows you’re right. He knows that he broke your heart, that nothing he ever does will ever fix it, and that you deserve so, so much better than any deficient apology he might attempt. But watching you stand before him in all your furious glory, he can't help but at least want to try. 

He will never understand why you have feelings for him out of all people. There's a voice screaming at him that it's because you were young, alone, and gullible, and that if you had met him as an adult you wouldn't look twice at him. And yet, a twisted part of him still relishes in your love, and he prays that when you hear him speak his heart’s truth, you will hopefully forgive him.

“I know… Look, Kiddo, I’m sorry, I didn't—”

He’s interrupted by muffled voices coming from the hallway, and you both freeze when realization hits.

“Fuck, they're here!” you whisper yell in panic.

Leon’s quick instincts come to the forefront when he finally presses the ‘enter’ key for the code, and the mirror-walled elevator slides open.

“Come on!” He hauls you along him by the waist and presses the button for the lower floor frantically.

Only once the doors glide shut that the both of you breathe, your adrenaline fueled hearts beating nearly in sync, and that's when you notice the position you are in.

With his arm around your waist, your own around his shoulders, fingers clutching his suit, you’re practically hugging in the cramped elevator, and when your eyes meet you feel you might actually faint.

“Hey,” he whispers, his ice blues roaming your features.

“Hi…”

A small smile etches on his lips from your shy reply, and he brings a tentative hand up to tuck a loose lock of hair behind your ear, not making a single effort to put distance between you.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Leon sighs at your clipped response, and then, like he can't help himself, his eyes drop to your lips. “You really are breathtaking, sweetheart…” he murmurs lovingly. “When I’m with you, I feel like I can hardly breathe.”

Your heartbeat stutters, and you notice how even he is surprised at how easily that confession slipped out of him without so much as a stammer. It’s one thing to whisper sweet nothing in the dark during the heat of sex, but this—this is different.

Leon leans closer until his forehead rests on yours and he closes his lids like he’s about to kiss you—or like the sight of your adoring eyes is too much to bear.

He doesn't kiss you, though. Not when you look so vulnerable and scared, like you're one confession away from begging him not to break your heart again. That's when he knows, if he wants to fix this, he needs to do it the right way. 

Not in a secret elevator on the way to a clandestine villainous lair.

He opens his eyes just to peer down at you with a pleading face. “When this is over, I hope we can talk. Really talk this time… Is that okay, kiddo?”

You gulp, already knowing you're done for from the sheer way you're melting like putty in his arms when he has barely done anything yet.

“Yeah, okay…” your agreement slips out as naturally as breathing.

Next chapter.