Chapter Text
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You x out of the tab and stare at the portal page, a gray blocky design they haven't updated since the 90's.
No new assignments. Your boss is still deciding what he'll put you on next.
Everyone you've spoken to in the last few days is dying to get put on Elpis. It's the thing. You could have the chance to be part of this cure that's going to change the world.
If you're on it, you'll find out tomorrow. You have to be. You will be.
It'd be stupid not to assign you, not when you've been part of some of the biggest bio projects that have come across your divisions table.
Tomorrow. Right now… you can breathe.
You sigh and let your arm fall from the keyboard on your stomach, hanging off the side of the couch. You are exhausted, mentally. Always are after a case. They're all consuming.
A wet nose interests itself in your hand, sniffing enthusiastically. You open your fingers and pet Soul's snout reflexively, dropping your sites to the smiling German Shepherd.
You made quick friends, you and Soul. He's already a relief to come home to on office days, a buddy to remind you to decompress and have fun.
By the looks of it, he's ready for more fun. His front paws leap and land on your side, a little brutish but you'd never fault him for it.
Your laptop starts to slide off your body. You manage to save it before it hits the floor. He whines like he's saying sorry.
“All good buddy.” You ruffle his head and stretch over to the glass coffee table to deposit the device.
But suddenly Soul isn't interested. His pointed ears shoot up and he darts across the room to the front door, barking and running in circles.
Then you hear it, an engine approaching, the rich sound of it slowing as it nears the house.
No one has shown up all week, not even for a delivery.
“Shit.” You sit up, your heart leaping in your chest.
It's too soon.
The thump of some beat heavy song comes from the street outside, paired with an engine running idle, paired with the sound of the garage door opening.
It's definitely him.
This dog sitting gig had no time frame on it. He just agreed a day rate and said he was going out of town for the foreseeable.
But he's back. It's only been five days.
And you don't have anywhere to go.
You scramble to your feet at the sound of the door opening down the hall, wiping your hands on your pants. This is your first time meeting Leon Kennedy in person.
Soul has no reservations about it, sprinting across the living room and down the hall.
You hear him before you see him, a gruff oof as his dog surely leaps on him.
“Yeah yeah, I missed you too.” His voice rumbles out of the hall, deep and rough but less… worn out than he sounded over the phone a week ago.
Eventually, he emerges from the hallway.
You swallow, standing unsure as you take him in. His hair looks long but the strands in his face don’t seem to bother him. He's wearing a dress shirt that looks like it's been around, no longer crisp white and crumbled by the strap of his bag, not tucked into his jeans.
It's not quite DSO superstar, more… guy in a middle aged rock band.
The town doesn't lie though, he's handsome. He has severe eyes and soft lips, a scruff that suits him, thick arms straining the sleeves of his shirt.
He gives you an assessing look, head to toe and back before you can figure out how that feels, then nods. “Hey.”
“Hi.” Jesus, you're nervous.
He remembers your name, that's… nice. “Good to meet you. In person. Thanks for taking care of Soul.”
“He's good company.” You manage a natural smile, because he is. He's a good boy.
Leon sets the briefcase in his hand on the floor then lifts the strap of a stuffed duffle over his head. Whatever's in there weighs a tonne judging by the way his bicep bulges large enough to almost tear his shirt, definitely by the sound it makes when he puts it down.
Soul's still excited, pacing back and forth in front of Leon, tail wagging away.
“How was the trip?”
He smirks, making his way to the kitchen like he's remembering something funny, Soul at his heels. “A real joy.”
You suspect, based on timing, that he has something to do with uncovering Elpis. You won't ask though.
“How many days have I been away?” He opens his liquor cabinet and assesses the options in the shadowy recess. “Can I fix you a drink?”
“Five. I'll… have whatever you're having.”
“Dangerous choice.” He picks something dark in a square bottle and you try not to absorb the sound of his words.
You have had a curious snoop in that cabinet, his collection is specialised for sure.
“Alright. I'll get you your money after this.” He pours one glass, then a second.
You walk over to the counter when he offers one out, trying not to stare so hard now that you're closer to him. His eyes are such a cool blue they're almost grey. “You don't have to be a host if you're tired, or-”
“All good miss. Glad to be home.” He tips his glass to you, and invitation to cheers.
He's watching you, even as he brings the glass to his lips. You will your hand not to shake as you do the same. Thankfully the potency of the drink is distracting enough. Is it supposed to taste like something? It's pure heat.
“It's an acquired taste.”
“Right.” To his credit, the second sip goes down easier.
“I'm sure you'll be happy to go back home.”
The nervous laugh leaves you before you can groom it into something believable. “Yeah. Totally.”
Home. Right.
He catches on to it immediately, eyeing you suspiciously as you cower behind your drink.
Don't ask. Don't ask. Don't ask.
“Something wrong?”
“No. Nothing.” Just that the reason you're dog sitting is that you don't have a home. Just that like an idiot you spent three years living at your boyfriend's place without a fall back or plan if you were to break up. Just that hotels near work are expensive and the ones that aren't are far. Just that your car is showing you a light on the dash you really wish it wouldn't right now.
Leon doesn't buy it, but you suppose the good thing about strangers is that they don't ask questions.
“So you work on the river?” He asks instead. That's what you all call it, the square with all the government buildings looming over each other against Anacostia.
You nod. “Opposite DSO. I'm a state analyst.”
“Funny I haven't seen you.”
It is funny. The most you've ever seen of Leon is his Porsche leaving the parking lot. Years of working opposite each other and this is your first time really seeing him.
You wonder if he would look twice, if he did encounter you out there, or if it's just you that would look twice at him.
The drinks don't last forever. Too soon, you're both done and he excuses himself, probably to get that money.
Then you're back out on the road. You could try the hotel you were at before again. Surely this time you won't have a couple next door that make a sport of arguing at five in the morning.
Leon returns with sets of bills held together with safety pins, which is funny to you for some reason. He's definitely older, so it checks out you suppose. The amount he hands you seems like it includes a big tip, but you know he does well so you won't look a gift horse in the mouth. “Thank you. I'll… get my things together.”
He looks like he wants to ask you something, but you're already backing away.
In the privacy of his guest room, you throw your suitcase open on the floor and start to organise your life into it without taking a breath to mourn the end of five quiet days. They’ve been perfect, in a house that has some warmth in the walls despite its grays and blacks, with a dog that knows you need an easy companion, tranquil and out of the way.
You weren't made for the minimalism it takes to be on the move. You miss the rest of your clothes, your perfumes, the items you've collected from trips. All things still in Adrien's house, waiting for you to find somewhere for yourself.
Once you clear out the room you venture over to the bathroom to pack up your makeup and toiletries. Ironically, you look like you're at home, your reflection showing you a bare face and creased grey tee.
You need to focus on the things you're thankful for. You're not broke, for starters. Once you find the right place you don't have to worry about what's going to fund it, god willing whatever's wrong with your car isn't more expensive than usual.
And you don't have to ask a man to love you anymore. Everything you do now is for you.
And you're gonna get that Elpis assignment. You know it.
When you go back to the guest room, you're not alone. Leon's in front of you, his hands on his hips as he studies your open suitcase. You'd say he's intruding if you weren't in his house.
He looks at you sideways, clear eyes piercing directly through yours. “Where are you going from here?”
He knows. There's no point in making up a lie.
“Not sure?” You distract yourself petting Soul, who's interested himself with whatever's happening in the room. “Well, I think I’m gonna try the hotel down by the construction site.” God, that sounds sad.
The way Leon's looking at you alone feels like an interrogation. He doesn't even say anything and something like sorcery compels you to keep talking. “I lived with my boyfriend before, but we split and it was his place so… I'm working on getting my own. I have a viewing tomorrow actually.”
“Oh yeah? Where?” His arms cross over his chest.
Distracting. Very.
You clear your throat. “Near the old tile factory, those new apartments.”
Leon actually cringes at that.
“What?” They’re new. They can’t be that bad. Well, you haven't been to the area yet, but still.
“You haven't been around there have you?”
You shake your head, fear setting in. What could make someone like Leon react like that? Anyone would think it's an infected resort park.
Leon sighs, stepping around you to the entryway. He smells like his clothes have been folded in a dark corner for a long time, shut-in cotton, but it's a little comforting for some reason.
“Stay the night. I'll go with you to the viewing tomorrow.”
“You don't have to do that.” Frankly he’s scaring you.
“No bother.” The corner of his mouth turns upward. “I think Soul likes the extra attention anyway.”
Before you can say anything else, he's gone.
Well. You unpack a couple things.
Soul watches over as you place them back in their spots in the bedroom and bathroom, like he needs to ensure order is maintained. He seems happy about you sticking around, so that makes you feel like less of a freeloader.
“Wow.”
You stop on your way back to the bedroom, detouring to the open plan space to see him touching the plant at the kitchen window. “Thought this was dead when I left.” A finger caresses one of the sprity green leaves more gently than someone so big should be able to.
“Almost. He just needed a little tlc.”
Leon smiles over his shoulder. “He?”
If anyone else asked, you don't think you'd feel as coy. “Sam.” You confess quietly.
It's a quiet house in a quiet area. You have to keep yourself entertained somehow.
“Sam.” He sounds amused, but not mocking. Maybe even endeared.
Whatever it is, it's making your face hot.
“What kind of tlc are we talking?”
You end up drifting to the kitchen, talking with him about signs to look out for in unhealthy plants, when to trim parts off, how to manage watering, when to give them food. Plant food’s a whole other topic he takes interest in, leaning on the counter listening as you explain what you know about nutrients and their functions.
It strikes you as an unnecessary kindness, his choosing to make conversation with you over retreating into his room and getting some quiet time he's probably been missing away from home.
People don't talk about this when they gossip about Leon S. Kennedy, that he asks questions and smiles, that he makes you feel welcome, that he's… a nice guy.
“Maybe, just maybe, this'll kill my track record with plants.” He pushes himself upright with a grunt. “They barely make it a day around here usually.”
“But you keep trying.”
“Yeah.” He considers that as he scratches the back of his head. “I like em'”
You'd find him sweet if you could see past his arm, Jesus Christ. It's a marvel his shirt stays together when it's folded like that, bulging from shoulder to bicep to forearm.
“What time's this viewing tomorrow?” He combs his hair back, thick fingers running through hazel and gray strands.
Focus on the words. “Uh, six fifteen.”
He rounds the counter. “I'll pick you up after work then. Five thirty?”
“Right.”
He passes you, his arm brushing your shoulder as he goes.
You're crazy to feel something. Insane. It wasn't intentional, you'd be doing it all the time if you were that broad. The man probably has a girlfriend, and here you are wondering if you felt a spark, like an idiot.
It was a brush, that's all it was.
You don't see him again for the rest of the day, but you hear things. The TV in his room while you're using the last of the pasta to make dinner. The sound of him in the kitchen when you're laying out your clothes for work. The sound of him washing the bowl you left him dinner in. His voice and Souls mingling as they catch up about the week. He frequents the foot of your bed, but makes no appearance this time, sticking rightfully with his dad.
It's nice to have more life inside the house's gray walls, a comfort to lay on that takes you easily to sleep.
You're caught with toast in one hand and work phone in the other. White morning light fills the space from the window behind you, illuminating Leon enough he has to squint.
He's wearing an old t-shirt, old enough the word España printed across the chest in Oxford lettering is cracked to near unrecognition.
“Did I wake you?” You've assumed he has time off work, since that's what he came from. Either that or you've done him a favour waking him up.
“Nah. Mornin’” He mutters, voice even rougher than usual. He rubs at his eye and heads straight for the espresso machine. “Thanks for the pasta. I'm no good at cooking, so can't say I can return the favour.”
“Don't mention it.” You pocket your phone in your slacks and lean on the counter to face his broad back. “There isn't much food left so we can grab groceries after the viewing. On me.”
You can only describe the look he gives you as unhappy. He isn't even trying very hard and he’s intimidating. You'd hate to be his enemy.
“As a thank you for the help.” You try, almost raising your hands in surrender.
He huffs and returns to his coffee. You don't question if it's acceptance or rejection, preferring to house the rest of your toast and get to work on time.
You slip past Leon, grab your sandwich and smoothie from the fridge and wedge it all into your bag next to the door. When you squat to tug your loafers on, you look over.
He's already looking back, watching you as he waits out the steam rising from his coffee. His hair shines in the light behind him, messier on one side than the other. Seeing him before he’s put together feels like opening a gift days before Christmas. You haven’t done the time, earned the present.
“It's… not too late to back out of going with me.”
He could probably use the full day to himself without wasting time to meet you and walk around some hopefully not shifty apartment.
“What do you mean? I wouldn't miss it for the world.”
You snort and reach down to scratch Soul's neck when he stops circling your legs.
“Get out of here. I'll call you later.”
“Yes sir. Have a good day.” You offer him a shy salute and his dog a last pet goodbye before you're out of the door.
The cold bites at your ankles and tries to crawl into your coat when you button it up to the throat. It comes with a delicate fog today, one that makes the wide street feel eerie but thankfully isn't thick enough to fuck with your driving.
It isn't an unwelcome change to come into the office without a singular focus to get your ass on the chair. You can set your things out calmly, catch up with Leah in the next cubicle, run a security update on your laptop.
By the time it's ready to go you take the opportunity to trim and organise your files. They've gotten way out of hand.
As you do, the thought of Leon creeps into you like the morning cold. You wonder how much time he spends at a desk, picturing him hunched over and grumbling.
The sound of your name snaps you out of it. You spin your chair still smiling a little.
It's Elroy, your boss, leaning on the wall of your cubicle. His ties get wider every week.
“Morning. We have a meeting in 501.”
He moves on to speak to Leah while you glance at your schedule. Nothing. Emergency meeting then.
Or.
You get up with renewed energy, grabbing your laptop and striding your way over to 501. A few people are already sitting around the large table, you take a seat next to Mike. The two of you have been working closely together since you started, mostly on bioweapon countermeasures.
So this has to be it, the Elpis team forming before your eyes.
Leah walking in confirms it. She's usually on cases to do with healthcare initiatives.
When it seems that everyone needed has arrived, Elroy shuts the door and stands at the head of the room. “Morning all. As you know, our friends on the field retrieved Elpis last week, the cure to bio mutations. We already have a lab set up manufacturing and shipping doses where they're most needed, but we need a plan. We need to answer questions like how do we share this tech with other nations, how do we get it to civilians in the coming years, how do we use it in war zones. What is fair and unfair use? What can we anticipate to be the risks? What do we do in the worst case scenario?”
“What is the worst case scenario?” One of the comms guys asks.
“Say… it has a side effect we don't know about yet, or an enemy creates a neutraliser, or a BOW that can resist it.”
You couldn't think of anything worse. This is finally an opportunity to end it all.
“Guys this is a big topic, we could be working on it for years depending on how things shake out. For this first round we're focusing on three areas. International distribution, domestic distribution, and contingency plans. Here are your assignments…” He trails off as he connects his laptop to the screen behind him. The anticipation in the room is palpable. As much as everyone tires not to, you know you all have something you want to be assigned on. You're just happy to be in the room, but something about domestic distribution sounds grounded.
The screen illuminates with a simple table. The three assignments, names listed beneath each one.
You scan it at the speed of a machine, spotting your name and following the row up to the title.
Contingency plans.
Okay.
Sounds like a pleasant way to spend three months. Diving deep into all the worst things that could happen to the world. Perfect.
That meeting wraps up, then you end up in a next one that June sets up for your team to coordinate. The conclusion is that it starts with the science. You have to know if the compound itself can come under any risk. After that you can worry about law and warfare.
So, you put in a request to visit the lab managing it and prepare your research points. It's crucial you extract as much information as possible, so you reference previous projects, visit desks and dive into the archives for research on the kinds of things that have been discovered in the past by minds like Dr Chambers.
All of it burns the day away. Your head almost hurts from all the chemistry it's trying to absorb by the time your phone vibrates across the desk.
Leon Kennedy calling…
You look over your shoulder, reminding yourself again that saving his full name just because you felt cool having his number was a silly idea. “Hello?”
“Hey.” That always comes out smooth from his mouth. “‘I'll be there in a minute. Meet me at the bus stop.”
It's almost five forty. You curse in a breath and start putting your things back in your bag.
Leon chuckles. “You lost in some big analysis over there?”
“I was actually. I won't be long. Promise.” You slip your laptop into your bag and zip it closed.
“I won't rush you.” He hangs up, letting you release your phone from the hinge of your shoulder and catch it in your hand.
Your breath jumps when you spin to come face to face with Leah.
“Meeting the Mayor?" She sing songs. You just offer a laugh back as you pass her.
“See you on Monday Leah.”
The wind is out to get you. You have to hold your hair down as you take the steps down from the entrance to the street.
There's the Porsche. Around the corner, its long lights red in waiting over the yellow lines where the bus stops along the river. You stride over as quickly as you can without running and open the passenger door.
“You can get a ticket stopping here Mr Kennedy.”
“Mr Kennedy? That deserves a ticket.” He shakes his head in disbelief, flicking the indicator. “Call me Leon.”
As soon as you fasten your belt he pulls into the road. You try your best to fix your hair and settle into the leather seat.
It's pristine, the car. Clean and fresh smelling, bespoke.
His fingers are leather too, the glove creasing as they tap the wheel to the song coming softly from the radio. It continues, up his arm, part of a heavy leather jacket with a high neck.
His gray scruff glows in the last of daylight, framing the relaxed set of his lips.
They tick up, and you suspect it's because you've been caught. You face resolutely forward and unfasten two of the large buttons on your coat.
“So what were you working on today that was so interesting?”
“I… shouldn't talk about it.” You shouldn't. You usually stick to that rule. But this is Leon Kennedy, he was there. He has insight.
“I get that, no worries.”
“I'm working on Elpis.”
He blinks at the change of angle. “Oh yeah? Doing what?”
“Putting together research on what could go wrong, and what we'd do about it.”
That weighs on the set of his lips. It drags his brows down. He doesn't say anything but you can see him thinking as he drives.
“What do you think could go wrong?” You ask tentatively, playing with the zips on your bag for something to do with your hands.
His hands tighten on the wheel. “That we don't take this for the opportunity it is, and the nightmare continues.”
Those words come with a heavy darkness. They aren't thrown away. They're lived in.
“Yeah. This should be the end.”
Something like pain settles in the creases between his eyes. You won't ask, but you'll feel for him, for everyone who has suffered for the past 30 years because of this war against humanity.
You hate the idea that you're even working on contingencies. This should be the happy ending that people like Leon have earned.
The rest of the drive goes on in silence. Leon reaches the narrow street that passes the dormant tile factory and trashed parking lot until it opens up into the new apartment development.
Immediately you realise why the listing didn't have pictures of the outside. The buildings are sad. They look like shipping containers stacked into six stories.
“Pretty.” Leon comments as he parks in a free spot next to a pickup.
“It has a bus stop, when my car finally breaks down.” You point out as the two of you approach it on the way to the right building.
Then the stench of piss hits you.
“I'd walk to work.” Leon deadpans.
You know you have the right place when you spot a man in a suit with a tablet waiting at the entryway. He puts on a big smile when he sees you, like it'll compensate for the cheap light strip above him.
“Thanks for coming today. Was it a far journey?”
“Not really, like fifteen minutes.” You say as you follow him up the stairs. Leon makes a comment about an elevator behind you. This place is on the fourth floor, so it would be a pain in the ass if you had groceries.
The agent shows you around in just over a minute, it's a small place.
You can work with small, but you can't deny it feels like the inside of a trailer. The kitchen window faces more gray apartments, the bathroom is the size of a cupboard, and it's cold. You've only seen one AC unit and you suspect by the quality of the walls and windows that heat wouldn't reach far.
“What do you think?”
Leon turns away from his window inspection. “You call this an apartment?”
You almost laugh at the absolute absence of sugar coating.
A smile stays plastered on the agent's face. Leon interests himself with the smoke detector above him.
“Your boyfriend has a good eye for particulars, but as you can imagine, this location is priced for its features.”
Leon looks him in the eye. “Choice words. Did you practice them in the mirror?”
The smile finally cracks.
Before you witness a fight, you politely wrap things up with the agent. You're not interested in the place, but you tell him you'll contact him anyway.
You're the first to step out of the apartment, but a leather hand around your elbow pulls you back. You collide with Leon's chest and watch a man sprint past you to the stairs.
Before you can even ask yourself what just happened a woman appears, running with a stainless steel pot in hand and rage across her face. “Stop running so I can teach you a fucking lesson Alvin!”
She follows him down the stairs. The three of you wait a minute before you dare to go down there yourselves.
You don't see those people on the way to Leon's car, which is more unsettling than if they were arguing on the street.
“That's a hell no if I've ever seen one. Have you got anything else lined up?” He opens the passenger door for you.
You stop in front of him, leaning back when you realise you're a little close. “A nicer place, closer to work. I'm seeing it on Tuesday.”
“Good.”
He waits for you to be safely in your seat before he closes the door and takes his own. It feels warmer in the car, but no, that's just you. You take a steadying breath as he starts the car.
“Thanks for coming with me Leon. It's nice to have someone have my back.”
It's wrong of him to smile at you in the process of taking hold of your seat to reverse out of the space. It's too close, too hard to hide from the light of.
Focusing on his palm as it pushes the wheel around is just as bad. You have to cross your legs and pluck at your coat to relieve the temperature of it.
Be normal.
“Any time sweetheart.”
Oh, fuck him. Fuck him for making you feel like a woman.
Deep breaths.
For a minute, you drive in silence that may be comfortable on his end but is certainly hot and bothered on yours. He keeps doing things that don't help; pushing his hair back, handling the gearshift, mumbling deep sounds when another driver gets in his way.
“How do you feel about burgers?”
That throws you further off axis. “I… yeah, I'm cool with burgers.”
“Great.” With just that, he makes a very last minute pretty dangerous turn right and accelerates in the opposite direction to his neighbourhood. If he can afford the car he can afford the tickets.
You figured you'd be on your way to a Wendy's or something, but Leon parks at an actual burger joint. All American, wood tables and almost too little lighting, red napkins, ranch and buffalo already at the table.
Dinner out with Leon Kennedy. It's like you've blinked and ended up in a different life.
He doesn't even open the menu, so he knows his way around the place. You're trying to focus on the options but you can see your watch and you're realising you haven't packed, that it'll be late when you get to a hotel, that the first one may not even have rooms.
The waiter has already come over. Thankfully Leon keeps her busy with an order for two iced teas. When she's gone he leans on the table, making himself impossible to ignore. He tugs off one glove, then the other, flexing strong fingers and threading them together. “You aren't thinking about hotels are you?”
“Maybe?” Nothing goes past this guy.
“Don't. Stay another week.”
“A week?”
He smirks. “What? Are you already sick of me?”
“No I…”
“Just say yes. I couldn’t put a lady like you out on the street.”
A lady like you? Does he think you're weak? That you wouldn't survive on your own? What does that mean?
“You look offended.” His shoulders hunch just a fraction, expression sheepish. “I mean that kindly. It uh, doesn't cost me anything to help. I want to help.”
That's shockingly sincere. So much so you lose track of your defences and let that decision settle.
It's really done with when the waiter comes over, you scan through the choices as quickly as you did in the morning meeting and pick the buffalo chicken burger.
“I owe you big time.”
“We're square if you keep cooking- Not that I'm forcing you.” He combs through his hair and lingers at his nape. “And if you're any good with scissors, I could use a trim.”
“I'm okay.” You trim your hair, you should manage. “You don't go to like a barber?”
He shakes his head and reaches for his drink. “Don't trust strangers with sharp objects around my head.”
“Wouldn't I be a stranger with a sharp object?”
He chuckles. “Soul likes you, so I trust you.”
“He does have good intuition.”
You sit in a pocket of silence for a moment, both of you smiling thinking of the same dog. The table behind Leon gets their order. If your burger is gonna be that big you'll end dinner in a comma.
“Is it tough having to travel to work with Soul at home?”
His simile turns somewhat sombre. “I didn't plan to get him. He belonged to someone I knew. Maybe I shouldn't have kept him, but I kept telling myself I was done after every job that pulled me back in.” He sighs, picking at a dent in the table with his index. “When I got home this time, I felt like I could really be done. We have Elpis. But… I don't know. I think that's just what I want to believe.”
“I'll believe it with you.”
He looks up at your smile. It seems to help soften the edges of the exhaustion in him that doesn't have anything to do with sleep. You want him to not be so tired, to have what he wants, to say he did a good job and the job is done. Now's a better time than any.
“So this boyfriend you had.” Leon leans back, his voice less stark to lighten the mood. “Has he checked in? He know you're okay?”
“No he… he told me to contact him when I'm ready to get the rest of my stuff from his place and I haven't done that yet so…” So no. As far as Adrien knows you could be anywhere, or nowhere.
Leon's brows move as he shrugs out of his coat. They're expressive, like they were in that shack apartment when he wasn't impressed. “Bad breakup?”
You'd answer his question quicker if you weren't watching him shove the sleeves of his black Henley up to his elbows. His forearms are perplexingly thick. He flexes his right wrist like he's making sure you can follow the two veins running stubbornly along the underside.
“Yeah- no- I mean kind of? I was trying but I wasn't getting anything from him and when I pressed him hard enough he… in more words he said he didn’t love me anymore.”
Maybe you would have been a little less open if you were focused, but it's out now, the embarrassing truth of it. You became just someone to him, and he no longer wanted the inconvenience.
His brows move again, something like disbelief. “Damn. And how are you about it?”
That's a good question. How do you feel?
“Lost.”
You wish it wasn't true, that you could get back up and kick ass at life. You feel like everything you'd warn your friends not to be. Don't be that girl that relies on a man, don't be the girl with no fall back, don't be the one that attaches part of herself to him that she won't get back when he leaves her.
But here you are. No legs to stand on. No idea if you could ever be loved the way you can love.
And literal legend Leon S. Kennedy to witness it from the front row.
Your food arrives, well timed. The burger looks amazing, but damn, it's the size of the apartment you just viewed. And they didn't skimp on the fries.
“Let me tell you something. You're doing good.” He flips the bottle of buffalo in his hand like he's a gunslinger and screws the lid off with two fingers. “You know you're lost. That's the most important step to finding yourself again.”
That immediately reframes the feeling into something easier to carry. “Wise. Thank you.”
“What can I say, I've been around a couple years.”
You stop resisting a smile because you can tell he's looking for it. When he has it he gets a good grip on his burger and takes a bite.
You wish he wouldn't moan at the taste. That sound is exactly the kind of thing that'll keep you up at night.
“Oh my god.” His throat bobs as he swallows. “I haven't been able to eat here for a while. I've been dreaming about this burger.”
“High praise.” You figure out a grip on yours and try to forget that deep satisfied sound desperately. It takes you a minute to find a manageable angle, but when you do you can understand Leon's struggle. It's juicy, satisfying, just the right amount of greasy to hit the spot.
“Good right?”
You nod as you chew, a hand obscuring your mouth.
Once he's taken a second large bite, he settles back into his seat.
The inside of his knee bumps the outside of yours. You make it a mission not to react. It's just a bump. Almost nothing. Not enough cause to send something electric up the length of your thigh.
You take in as much air as you subtly can through your nose and find calm above the mild buzz he keeps stoking in you.
“Do you have a favourite spot in town?”
You light up at the question, because you very much do, but then remember your vow. “I’ve made it a mission to gatekeep it.”
He smiles around a fry. “Oh so it's super exclusive?”
“It’s actually busy all the time, I'm just ridiculous.”
He laughs, you're not sure why. You like it though, it makes you feel good. “Okay I'll tell you.”
That bolsters his laughter. “You'd be terrible in an interrogation you know.”
“If it was you interrogating me, yeah.”
His brows go up for a second, and you realise that totally sounded like a line. Oh god.
Move on. Move on. “There's this noodle bar two blocks from work stuck between a tobacco store and a cafe. It looks like someone's basement but I'm telling you, best noodles in America.”
“America? Damn woman.”
Now you're laughing. “I'm not playing. I swear.”
“Well you have to take me there.” He concludes, going back to his burger like he didn't just casually set up another… hangout? Is that what it is?
You ponder on the idea of being buddies with Leon Kennedy as you work through your meal. You'd never hear the end of it if Leah and Mike saw you with him. You'd broadly have to quit your job to escape it.
You also ponder a scenario where it's a date and you're not exactly buddies, but that's silly right? Almost enough to make you laugh.
“What are you thinking about?”
You look across from you to see Leon eat the last bite of his burger. You're just about half way through yours and you're struggling.
“Just picturing you in the noodle bar taking up the entire bench.” You pulled that out of your ass but it is a funny image.
He frowns. “You calling me fat?”
You laugh at his expression. “Don't do that. You know I’m not.”
Your body can't handle much more burger, so you shift focus to the fries and steal a pickle from under the bun. The waiters on shift seem to be close, you watch them for a while as they joke between the three of them.
“You gonna finish that burger?”
You bite back a smile, because his eyes have been lingering on it for a minute. “I would appreciate if someone would help me finish it.”
You chuckle when Leon makes a show of looking around for competition before taking the prize from your plate.
You've heard things about him. Intense, dangerous, mysterious, important, but not that he's funny, goofy even. It shouldn't suit him, but it really does.
“You got any plans tomorrow?” You ask him when he's almost done with your burger and you're on your last fry.
“I think I'll take Soul out for a hike.”
“I bet he loves that.”
“Oh yeah. He'll love that I can actually keep up with him now.”
You wonder why he wouldn't have been able to before but don't question it. “I'll be working from home- your home. If I'm in your way though you can tell me.”
He waves that away. “You aren't intruding. Really.”
What makes things worse is that he refuses to let you contribute to dinner. Not even the tip.
You are thankful for your coat hiding the major bloat you're sporting though. You're impressed you're even walking.
Leon doesn't forget the grocery store, most likely because he has Soul's food on his mind.
It's more of a bonding experience than you expected. You learn that he doesn't like bananas as he drops a bunch in the cart for the potassium, that he's unsurprisingly big into spinach, he likes chocolate cereal and hates prawns, and religiously checks expiry dates.
What seems to be most revealing to him about you is that you have to do every aisle in order.
“It's an unmatched method to not forget anything.” You insist as you help him load the conveyer.
“I don't relate. I come in knowing what I want.”
“Yeah, because you buy four things.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
“You can't make meals with four things.”
At least the clerk’s entertained, smiling as she scans things through.
Then he has the gall to open his wallet. You almost climb over him in an effort to get in front and present your card.
“Look at what I'm dealing with Meg.” Leon complains, finally surrendering.
“I think you're just fine.” She says, looking sideways at him as you swipe.
And what a good place that is to be. Just fine.