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Leon reached the door of the apartment nearly dead on his feet. He was sore, his wounds stung, and all he wanted to do was collapse into bed—or possibly drink and then collapse into bed—but it didn’t look like that would be immediately possible. Because for some reason, there was light shining from under the door. Someone was there.
Leon was already reaching for the gun at his side, trying not to make any noise when the action pulled painfully at his wounds, when he realized what was going on.
“Goddam Claire and her goddam ideas…” Leon holstered his gun forcefully.
It had all started when Claire came to check up on him after his last five-star military hospital experience. He’d left the hospital against doctors’ recommendations, and Claire, being the only person Leon really had to list as an emergency contact, was of course informed.
Which meant that all too soon Leon found himself still leaning in the open doorway as Claire pushed her way into his apartment.
“God, it’s hot out, you have anything to drink in this joint?”
“I—” Leon had only just managed to get the door closed again, and Claire was already in his kitchen. She opened the fridge without waiting for him to answer. Based on the withering look she gave him over the open door, she evidently did not like what she found—a six pack of beer, two apples that were already starting to wrinkle with age, and a single cup of yoghurt.
“Jesus, Leon, you shop like a twenty-year-old college student.”
Leon shrugged. It wasn’t like he’d exactly had time to shop recently. “Maybe I’m healing my inner frat bro.”
Claire shot him an unamused look. “I knew you when you were twenty. You don’t have an inner frat bro.”
“Well not with that attitude.”
“Seriously, what were you planning to eat today?” Claire pressed. Leon sighed in exasperation, limping his way back to the couch. “And I swear to God, Leon if you say you were just going to drink…”
“I mean, beer doesn’t really go bad as far as I—”
“Leon!”
“Did you come visit just to judge me?”
Claire rolled her eyes, flopping violently onto the couch next to him. “It’s not judging if it comes from a place of love, you know.”
“I’m not entirely sure that’s true.”
Claire shoved him gently, careful of his injuries. Leon couldn’t help but smile; it was good to see her.
“Are you okay?” she asked after a moment. “Really?”
“Physically? Yeah, I’ve definitely had worse.”
“And mentally?”
Leon grinned, “No more or less fucked than usual.”
Claire nodded, settling further into the couch. She leaned against Leon’s side, her head resting on his shoulder. “God, between you and Chris… You two are going to give me a heart attack! How is it that neither of you have any self-preservation skills?”
Leon shrugged, making a noncommittal humming noise. “Occupational hazard, I suppose. Use all that up in the field.”
“Huh. I guess that makes a little sense…” Claire said. “Wait!” She leaned forward suddenly. Leon raised an eyebrow. “I have an idea,” she continued slowly. “But don’t say no right away, okay?”
“…Okay?”
“What if you two moved in together?”
“What? Me and Chris?”
“Yeah! Think about it, half the rent and twice the likelihood the fridge is actually stocked when you need it. And, you know…” Claire trailed off vaguely. Clearly, she was hoping two heads were better than one when it came to looking after themselves. Leon thought she would probably be sorely disappointed on that front. He was enough of a mess for two people.
But…
Maybe it was the pain medication talking, but at the time, Leon had agreed to the plan. Moving in with Chris would certainly save money, and between their work schedules it wasn’t like they would ever really be home at the same time. What the hell.
Now he stood in front of the apartment door faced with the reality that with Chris around, he would actually have to talk to someone before he could commence with his evening plans.
Well, shit.
Leon tested the door. Locked. Of course—Chris was as paranoid as he was. He made sure to make plenty of noise with his own key as he opened the door; startling Chris was probably a one-way ticket to a gun pointed at your head and he was frankly too tired for that.
Chris’s eyes were on him the moment he was through the threshold. He was sitting at the small kitchen table working on a laptop. He’d probably been doing paperwork, Leon thought—God, why did killing monsters for a living involve so much paperwork?
“Just get off a mission?” Chris asked.
Leon nodded, slipping his jacket off and trying not to flinch too much when the movement pulled at the claw marks on his back. Apparently, he didn’t hide his discomfort well enough. Chris raised an eyebrow.
“You hurt?”
“Why? You afraid I’ll cack on you, and you’ll have to go back to paying twice the rent?” Leon asked.
Chris raised an eyebrow. “Anyone ever tell you you have a messed-up sense of humor?”
“Thanks. It’s the trauma.” Leon turned his back to Chris to hang up his jacket on the rack next to the door. He hoped the other man would drop it. He just wanted to get to sleep.
But apparently turning his back was also the wrong move. He was wearing a black tee shirt, which he’d thought would hide any blood well enough, but he hadn’t been accounting for the fact that Chris Redfield seemed to have the eyes of a fucking hawk.
“You’re bleeding,” Chris said, his voice flat.
“Am I?”
“Get over here, Kennedy. Let me see.” Chris stood, closing his laptop, and moved to grab a first aid kit from one of the cabinets. He moved to the couch, patting a cushion. “Come on, get over here. Shirt off.”
“Jeez, Redfield, I never thought you’d ask—”
“Come on, smartass.”
Leon huffed a sigh but didn’t fight it anymore. He sat with his back to Chris, his legs crossed beneath him. Getting his shirt off proved slightly more painful than he’d thought, but the moment he hissed, Chris’s calloused hands were already there to help. The man was surprisingly gentle.
“Okay, let’s see what we’re dealing with here.” Chris muttered to himself.
After a moment, Leon felt Chris still behind him, his fingers lightly trailing along Leon’s right shoulder blade. Which was… odd given Leon’s injury was on his left side.
“Uh, what—”
“Do you and my sister have matching tattoos?” Chris asked suddenly.
Ah. That. “In our defense we were pretty drunk at the time.” Leon said, ducking his head, glad that Chris likely couldn’t see him flush from where he was behind him.
Chris was silent for a moment, long enough that Leon turned enough to raise an eyebrow. Chris frowned slightly.
“You and Claire… you aren’t…” he trailed off awkwardly.
Leon felt even more blood rush to his face, turning away. Sure, he couldn’t deny there had been a little awkward flirting when the two of them had first met—God, they’d practically been children then—but that had not been the case in a very, very long time. “No! No, no, no… Claire is like…” Leon stopped before the words like a sister left his mouth. He wasn’t sure that was something you could say in front of someone’s actual sibling. “She’s like family,” he landed on instead.
Chris made a slight humming noise of acknowledgement.
“Besides,” Leon added, chuckling lightly, “Isn’t Claire more—” he cut himself off abruptly, suddenly unsure, a worm of unease twisting in his gut.
Chris huffed behind him. “Not everyone with a military background is homophobic, Leon,” he chided. Leon ducked his head further in embarrassment.
“Hey, man, I’m sor—”
“Besides, more into women doesn’t mean she doesn’t date guys,” Chris continued, ignoring the apology. “And you have that whole ‘wet cat mopey’ thing she seems to go for.”
“Hey!” Leon cut off with a hiss—Chris had chosen that moment to press antiseptic into his wound. He could have sworn he heard Chris chuckle lightly behind him. Asshole.
They fell into a not uncomfortable silence as Chris worked, cleaning the wound with the efficiency of a man with ample experience in field medicine. Leon’s wounds weren’t bad—the claws hadn’t gone too deep—which was why he had avoided dealing with them this long. But it probably was smart to get them dressed properly if he wanted the best shot at avoiding infection.
“There you go,” Chris said after a time, patting Leon lightly on the back. “All set.”
Leon slipped his shirt back on silently, feeling suddenly… odd. Safe, he realized with a start. That was not at all what he usually felt like after a mission.
“Do you… want to talk it?” Chris asked somewhat awkwardly after a moment. “The mission, I mean?”
Leon surprised even himself by stopping to consider the offer. He shrugged, settling onto the couch properly. “It wasn’t really all that bad, to be honest. Ada was there, so I had a little help.”
“Wong?” Chris asked, eyes widening. “You two still have that Batman/Catwoman thing going?”
Leon couldn’t help but laugh. “Why the sudden interest in my love life?”
“Shut up.”
Leon shrugged. “Ada and I… care about each other,” he said slowly, carefully selecting his words.
“And hook up occasionally?” Chris prompted. Leave it to a Redfield to have no subtlety.
“Yes. That too.” Leon shrugged, “I don’t really know what to call it, to be honest. She’s not the commitment type, you know? Not exactly the type you bring home to meet your parents.”
“I wouldn’t know. Don’t think I ever brought anyone home when my parents were still…” Chris trailed off, leaving the unspoken alive hanging heavily in the air between them.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Leon said quickly to fill the silence, “You’re speaking to another proud member of the ‘Very Dead Parents’ club, so...” Chris’s eyebrows shot up and shit, maybe that was not the right thing to say in this situation, damn it, Leon. “God, I’m sorry. Fucked up sense of humor at it again.”
“No, you’re okay. I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention your family.”
Leon ran a hand through his hair awkwardly. “Yeah?”
Chris elbowed him good naturedly. “Should we make a handshake?”
“I… what?”
“For the club?”
Leon chuckled, relaxing again. He yawned, glancing at his watch. “Shit, it’s late. I’m not keeping you up, am I?”
Chris shook his head. “Nah, I’ll probably just get back to work.”
“Paperwork. It never ends,” Leon said, shaking his head. “Well, I can leave you to it so you can actually get to bed at some point.” He started to get up, stretching carefully.
Chris made a vague noise of acknowledgement, but he didn’t move to get back to work. His eyes unfocused slightly, a slight wrinkle appearing between his brows.
Leon’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
Chris glanced up, the odd look disappearing. “What?”
“I just…” Leon forced his way past the awkwardness. “Is something bothering you? Because if you wanted to talk I could…” he trailed off lamely, making some kind of gesture with his hands. Even he wasn’t sure what he was doing at this point.
Chris gave him a small smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “It just isn’t… a sleeping night, I don’t think,” he finally said slowly.
Leon hummed. He certainly knew how that was. He flopped back onto the couch. “Mind if I turn on the T.V?”
“Leon, you just got back, you don’t have to—”
“I feel like watching lame reality T.V. So, sue me, it helps me relax,” Leon said with a shrug.
“I don’t…” Chris sighed, his shoulders notably relaxing. “Okay, sounds like a plan.”
Leon flipped through channels until he found something sufficiently brainless to watch, Chris a quiet, warm presence at his side. This was… nice, Leon thought.
He’d have to remember to thank Claire later. Maybe her ideas weren’t so bad after all.