Work Text:
Look at him. With that dirty mud hair, weirdly shapen jaw, and that dumb, empty stare.
Leon loathes him.
Or maybe he doesn't,
Maybe his hair was the perfect shade of chestnut, every strand seemingly glowing of gold and silver. Him, with those jaws that could rival every marble sculpture in New York, topped with those eyes, as bright and brown as melted chocolate, to which Leon would happily drown in.
Chris Redfield, the one he risked his life for back in Racoon City, Leon had a right to hate him for that, until he saw him for the first time, Chris came up to him, sobbing, as he hugged Leon tightly, thanking him for saving his sister's life.That's when he instantly knew that he would willingly go to hell and back just to see that stupid man happy and safe.
That was years ago, now the same man stood infront of him now, asking him for help, a lot has changed since then. Chris became bulkier, wiser, and to be honest, hotter. He remembers the time he found out about Chris' sudden muscle gain, he was in his office at that time, Hunnigan informing him about Jill's disappearance when Hunnigan pulled up a photo of Chris, looking like a huskier version of Superman. Leon gripped his pen so tight, it almost cracked in half. No one should be allowed to look like that, especially not the goody-goody, empathetic, heroes that does nothing but make Leon question everything he believes in.
And as Patricio bleeds on the hardwood floors of a bar he doesn't remember the name of, Chris, in all of his glory, looks at him, like he was a lost puppy and Leon was his new home.
Leon loathes it.
Or maybe he doesn't.