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Something was most certainly wrong when Chris Redfield arrived home, announcing neither his arrival nor calling out to the partner he knew was home. Toeing off his heavy boots and draping his mighty coat over the bench which greeted him when he stepped inside. He stared into the calm, miserable, silent home and stood there, the cold air filtering from outside.
Then certainly, something must be wrong when Leon S. Kennedy, who had worried for several days straight over his partner, did not stand; did not rush to greet Chris. He sat with a blank look; a hundred-yard stare, if he might so call it, at the news feed playing before. He had, through a process complicated beyond comfort, gotten into contact with Piers Nivans to learn about the specifics of the situation. He hadn’t figured, however, staring at the crater of what remained of the village where Piers had said they'd been last, that things were like this.
"It'll be simple, really. I'll be gone hardly two days; you'll barely notice my absence."
See, four days wasn't too long, either but he had been promised. Two days, nothing more nothing less. Everything had happened—he was told, on the day of February the ninth, and yet there had been three days following the ninth wherein nothing was clear. Leaving Leon to worry.
Leon wasn't too keen on worrying.
It wasn't as though Leon had nothing to do but worry, he had his own job and paperwork to do so long as he was off missions. He bickered with Hunnigan at work and even complained to Jake Muller (who had been in town for Piers, though he said otherwise) about their missing partners. But there was little he could do to help fifteen hours and an ocean away from Chris.
The news had already caught on about the explosion in the Romanian countryside. The explosion and destruction of a centuries-old castle and the surrounding village and homes were bound to make the news. Even if it had taken a day or so for people to truly realize what had been happening. For the agonizing hours since he left, Chris had been radio silent with Leon. Even after the events in the village, even as he figured out logistics.
Logistically, Leon knew that Chris was alive, if his team hadn’t made it out, he’d have been alerted to it; Leon was one of the few DSO agents working to preserve relations between the American Government and the BSAA. He was also Chris’ partner, in more ways than one. If Chris was dead, he’d have been told.
But no one said anything. He didn’t get a call, or an email, or anything such as that.
Meaning Chris was alive and neglected to tell Leon.
"Leon?" Chris called hesitantly, and nearly all of Leon's anger bled from him; he lifted his head. Chris didn’t come to him, and Leon had a feeling he would stay where he was. Leon was no housemaid, but Chris might appreciate getting greeted at the door. If he deserved it was a different can of worms, but…
Quietly, Leon stood and made his way down the hall. It was quiet, dark and though it should have been a happy moment, it was only tense.
Chris all but loomed before the doorway; like a monster rising from the dark, light behind them hiding their features. Leon wanted to be angry, but seeing Chris Redfield standing there alive and in one piece had his heart beating faster. "Chris," he said gently, his voice still clipped.
He said nothing as Leon approached, and for a moment, Leon debated on taking Chris' hands in his own. He stared at Chris; the TV was still playing in the back. ‘An explosion in the Romanian countryside; possible casualties are still unknown, what little remains that have been found are near impossible to identify.’
Leon slapped him.
Chris' head snapped to the side, the crack of Leon's hand echoed loudly in the quiet. "You," he said, seething only slightly, "are a fucking asshole."
A laugh bubbled out of Chris as if Leon hadn’t just hit him, and he reached forward to grab Leon and pull him into his arms. Leon went willingly, pulling Chris down so he could slot his head in the bend between his neck and shoulder. The soft material of his turtleneck was a welcome, and Leon allowed himself a sigh. Chris wrapped his arms around Leon's waist and kissed the crown of his head.
"M'sorry," he said, Leon huffed a quiet laugh, "should have told you earlier that we'd be stuck in the UK even after everything happened. I chartered a course to the BSAA Europe HQ, and from there, things got... interesting."
It was hard to be… too angry at Chris. He tried his best to do things the best way for everyone involved. And while Chris certainly didn't want to cause problems or issues, he often had poor execution when doing things he believed he might help. He wanted everyone to be safe and happy and not have to worry about the world, and he had ideas on how to do that. Even if sometimes those ways were… a little poor. ‘Good in theory, bad in execution’ was Chris’ unofficial motto at this point.
“Sorry I slapped you,” Leon said because he was, and hitting his partner was a definite bad thing to do. Chris hummed.
“I deserved it.” He said simply.
“You didn’t,” Leon said immediately, he looked up, meeting Chris’ hazel eyes, though they looked black in the low light, “you didn’t.” He said again, narrowing his eyes at Chris, as though daring him to say otherwise. Chris was kind enough not to ask why Leon slapped him in the first place and Leon realized that god he was such a fucking asshole. Two days of hell and cleaning up at a mess he made and Leon had slapped him.
Chris had probably been hoping to come home to his… boyfriend—Leon hated that fucking word, it sounded too juvenile— to his partner and maybe spend a lazy evening in bed destressing. Leon lowered his gaze and leaned against Chris. He didn’t deserve someone as hot and cold as Leon, someone who slapped him and immediately backtracked. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said finally, thinking that’s what he should have said in the first place. “I’m glad you’re alive and I’m sorry I slapped you; it was an asshole thing to do. Are you alright?”
“Hey, it’s alright. I’m… okay.”
“Your tone of voice is hardly reassuring.” He noted. This got him another quiet laugh from Chris, who shook his head. Leon wanted Chris to be happy, and he wanted to be someone Chris could come home to and not have to worry about anything. He wanted to be good for Chris.
“I promise, I’m okay. I’m better now that I’m home,” he said softly. Home. “I’m just glad it’s over. Miranda is dead, we blew the village sky-high… Leon, I’m just glad I get to see you again. Even if you’re angry at me.” He said, the amusement in his voice clear as day.
Leon looked up at him, even in the dark he could see the warmth in Chris’ eyes. “I’m not mad at you,” he said.
Chris raised his eyebrows. Leon rolled his eyes.
“Fine. Maybe I’m a little mad at you.”
“And you have every right to be,” Chris said, stepping back to take Leon’s hands in his own. He kissed his knuckles. “I worried you when I could have shot you a quick message in the brief moments I had the time. I figured you’d have your work to do, but I was caught up in all of it. I know it sounds like an excuse but truly, between Miranda and making sure Mia Winters and her daughter got somewhere safe I…”
Noting the way Chris had neglected to mention Ethan and the way his expression had shifted, just the smallest amount to something sad, Leon decided not to mention it. “I don’t blame you,” he told him, reaching up to take Chris’ face in one hand. He smoothed his hand against his beard, grateful to feel the rough stubble under his skin. “It’s easier to focus on the mission at hand instead of the smaller things outside of what you’re doing, trust me, I’d know.”
Chris hummed. “I should hope so, Leon. I’d be worried if you didn’t understand after twenty-three years of this shit.” He leaned into Leon’s touch, sighing softly.
Leon whistled softly. “Twenty-three years we’ve been doing this? Everything just merges together after a while. Still feels like Raccoon City was only a couple of years ago.” He said. Chris made a soft sound of understanding and let Leon pull him farther into the house. Chris went with him, following just a couple of paces behind.
"Raccoon city is far in the past, Leon," Chris told him gently. He wasn't patronizing, nor mocking, only reminding. Leon appreciated it. He was a blunt man, and having things laid out in words for him was something he enjoyed having.
"And thank god for that. I hated those fucking sewers and those underground tunnels and Ada waltzing around like she owned me. You see her in Romania?"
Chris barked a laugh and Leon's heart skipped a few beats, he had missed that sound. Four days half felt like four decades away from Chris. "Thankfully for all of us, no. We’d have killed each other before getting anything done. You know she and I, we don't see eye to eye." Chris mused. Had Ada been in Romania, it would have been a lot of trouble for a lot of people.
"By "not see eye to eye" you mean petty children's games where she refuses to acknowledge you're even in the room and you get pissy every time she talks?"
"Don't be an asshole," Chris said, crowding Leon up against the counter as Leon led Chris into the kitchen. He let Chris pull him down for a kiss, his lips rough yet gentle at the same time. Leon hummed, running his hands through Chris' short-cut hair. He'd had a shower sometime before coming home; his hair was short but fluffier when he showered. Leon had spent years admiring the way it changed ever so slightly. "It's not my fault she willingly puts you in danger with no regard for your health every time she shows up." He complained.
Chris was— well, he was right, but Ada had never… "You'd attack someone who's not there to defend themselves?" He asked, just to egg Chris on.
A roll of his eyes. "If it's Ada Wong? Yes. Now, please. I don't want to talk about her," he made a face, and Leon laughed softly.
He pulled Chris down for another kiss, wrapping his arms around Chris' neck and angling his body so he was pressed up against his partner. Chris hummed against his lips, surely catching on to Leon's tactics; after all their years spent together, Leon would be offended if Chris didn't know what he was doing. Especially since he wasn’t being subtle about it. He kissed Chris until they were both panting and Chris was digging his fingers into Leon’s hips, doubtless to leave bruises. Leon let out a long sigh that bordered as a moan as he pulled back, one hand holding onto Chris’ face.
Chris’ eyes looked black when Leon looked back up at him, but he knew that it wasn’t due to the dark this time around. He trailed his hand along Chris’ face, trailing his jaw with one finger, and pressing kisses to his neck at the same time. “Come to bed,” he coaxed, though he knew Chris would go whether Leon spun a pretty tale or simply said “fuck me” and pulled him to their room. “I’ve missed you, and maybe you can make up for being radio silent to me for as long as you were.”
Chris laughed, shaking his head. “Are you saying that if I fuck you so hard you have trouble walking you’ll forgive me?” He mused.
Leon pressed a kiss just under his ear, lust shooting down his spine, he shuddered. “Your words, not mine, but I hope you can deliver on that, Redfield.” He simpered, laughing when Chris heaved him off of the ground and into his arms. He took Chris’ face in his hands and wrapped his legs around his waist. “I’ll take you out for dinner after, keep your mind off of things you might not want to think about right away.”
Chris hummed, he could walk these halls with his eyes closed, so he kept his gaze on Leon as he walked. “God, I love you.”
“You better."
★★★
The bar Leon dragged Chris to was small and local and the sign outside didn’t work well—half of it flickered and the last two letters weren’t lit at all— but it was a nice place.
The inside was welcoming enough; a nice shade of navy blue and the booths were old and homely. They had a feeling to them that they were worn and well-loved. They had good, cheap alcohol. Leon knew the bartender who begrudgingly gave him his drinks for free when he could use some if xe knew Leon had a way to get home safely.
Which Leon often did, so Chris was well acquainted with the bartender as well. They were almost regulars, but Leon had cut down on his drinking lately, so he didn’t go often.
It was a Saturday, meaning the place was pretty packed, but Leon didn’t mind. People left them alone in their booth with their drinks. Chris had gotten a beer (The kind he said didn’t taste like watered-down piss.) and Leon, after debating on whether or not to get a mimosa or a screwdriver for ten minutes, got a raspberry margarita on the rocks. He wanted something sweet and strong. Chris might have given him a disapproving look, but Leon was content with his “girly drink” thank you very much.
(He’d never understood that—why cocktails and fancier drinks were considered “girly” in the first place. He and the girls would get proper wasted on a drink or two while the men took all night and enough beers to get alcohol poisoning to get drunk. They were just drinks anyway. )
They didn’t speak much, except to order some fries, and Leon liked that. The point wasn’t to bicker or banter with Chris; they’d done that enough in the years they were together. The point was to go out and spend some time with his partner; get his mind off of the horrors he had undoubtedly seen in Romania. Leon liked silence, Chris had learned to enjoy it, even with the noise of the other people at the bar.
“I hope you had ways to entertain yourself while I was in Romania?” Chris said after a while, taking a sip of his beer and catching his attention. Leon had been glaring at a man making bedroom eyes at him from across the room; no one ever learned, though none of them ever approached. (Whether it was because of Chris or because he was fairly imposing on his own, Leon didn’t know.) “You get bored easily, yeah?” He smirked.
Leon kicked him under the table, only a little gently and Chris wheezed out a laugh. “I had things to do; I’ll have you know. Though sure, I gossiped a lot with Hunnigan and Jake.” He said.
Chris raised an eyebrow. “Jake was in town?”
“What? Like you didn’t know,” Leon scoffed and pointed a fry at Chris accusingly, “he told me he’d find his way to wherever the fuck you landed when you came back to the states. Give Piers an earful for staying radio silent as well. The works, y’know.” He said, shrugging, and that got him a roll of Chris’ eyes.
“He was there alright. I think that he meant to be more intimidating but all the fight bled out of him when he saw Piers so it was an interesting occurrence,” Chris said, as he grabbed some fries. He ate them before continuing, Leon couldn’t blame him for not liking to talk with his mouth full. “I don’t like that he’s taller than me.” He settled on finally.
Leon snorted, almost spitting out his drink, and sputtering when some of it went up his nose. When he composed himself, he huffed a laugh. “You don’t like that anyone is taller than you.” He told him. “How tall was his father anyway?”
Chris soured, but he didn’t seem too bothered by it. “Taller than me, but never by much. He kept fucking growing.”
“You did too,” Leon mused.
“I grew two inches between nineteen-ninety-eight and two-thousand and nine, Leon. Two inches over eleven years is hardly anything.” He muttered, though he wasn’t angry. Leon huffed, taking another sip of his margarita.
Leon gave him a sly smile, taking a slow, deliberate sip of his margarita. “You grew where it counted, anyway,” he simpered, shrugging one shoulder.
Chris threw a fry at him.
“You can’t threaten me with fries for telling the truth!” He let out a loud laugh, swatting away the fry Chris threw at him. Chris reached for another fry and glanced up at Leon as if he meant to throw another one. Leon raised his hands in mock surrender. Flustering Chris was always fun. He smirked.
“I wasn’t aware you talked with Jake, honestly,” Chris admitted, taking a bite out of the fry Leon thought he’d throw at him. He gave Leon a faint smile and took a small sip from his beer; which he was nursing. Leon had argued Chris should get as drunk as he wanted after Romania, but he had insisted on being the designated driver. So he was only having the one beer.
“It’s not like I do it every day, but sometimes he gets in contact and he’s fun to talk to; he’s good company when you and Piers aren’t around.”
“I’m guessing Jake was also worried about Piers and figured you might be in the same position?” Chris asked, tilting his head. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but at some point Jake had gone from Muller to Jake in Chris’ mind, and Leon liked that. Jake had had every reason to hate Chris, and Chris had had every reason to be wary of Jake, but he was glad they’d worked things out. More or less.
Jake was a good man, just blunt and brash and he couldn’t give a fuck about what someone thought of him. Leon liked him, and he was glad his partner and Jake were getting along.
“Mmhm,” Leon said from around a mouthful of fries, “how is Piers, anyway?” He asked. It had been a while since he’d seen the sniper in person.
Chris looked like he was debating what to answer and laughed softly. “He’s the same old Piers,” he said after a moment, nodding to himself, “without Jake around to rile him up he’s as he always is. Focused on the mission, always at attention, you know. He says hi, by the way.”
Leon snorted. “M’glad he’s good. Here’s to hoping Jake doesn’t tire him out to the point where he’s out of commission for a while.” He said, raising his glass. Chris huffed a laugh and clinked the bottom of his bottle against Leon’s glass.
“Here’s to hoping,” he parroted.
They fell into a comfortable silence following that. They ate their fries in silence, finishing them off before they got too cold; Leon finished his margarita and got a mimosa, and they people watched. Leon couldn’t help but think that all these people were lucky to live in happy, blissful ignorance about the happenings in the world. He’d kill to be able to go back and stop everything from happening in Raccoon City.
If those events hadn’t happened, though, Leon never would have met Claire. He never would have met Sherry, and he never would have met Chris. Leon knew that the people out there on the dance floor dancing, swaying, and laughing to the music were all normal people with normal lives and normal problems. Though it hurt that he’d never have that, he wouldn’t wish for his problems to be anyone's but his. Leon had gotten used to his life; he knew how to do nothing else. Besides, if Leon was doing it, it meant innocent people weren’t caught in the fray of bioterrorism and bioweapons. That’s all Leon needed.
That and his partner, and his daughter because Leon would be damned and rather go to hell than call Sherry anything but his daughter.
Chris nudged him from under the table, “Hey,” he said softly. Leon looked up, meeting warm brown eyes that looked vaguely golden under the lighting of the bar. Leon flushed and knew it had nothing to do with the alcohol. “I can practically hear you thinking. We’re out here not to think, and that goes for more than just me.” He smiled.
Leon stared at Chris; at the hickey that he’d left earlier tonight just barely peeking out from under his turtleneck. “I’m glad you’re back,” he said quickly, before thinking of anything else, he failed to fight back a smile when Chris blushed. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Hey, don’t be like that. I always come back. I love you; you know that?” He asked, reaching for Leon’s hand across the table. Leon laughed softly.
“I love you too,” he replied, the words had stopped feeling foreign years ago. “Try not to go radio silent on me in the future, though.”
Chris rolled his eyes playfully. “No promises.”
Leon had no fries to throw at him, so he flicked a pack of ketchup at Chris and laughed when he failed to swat it aside. A pack of ketchup was hardly going to phase him, but Chris’ insulted face when it hit him square in the forehead made Leon crack up.
He took Chris’ hands in his own, still chuckling, and rested his chin on one outstretched arm. He didn’t have to say anything else, the soft smile he gave Chris was enough, and Chris never asked Leon for more than he could give; he loved that about Chris.
“Next time,” Chris began, “you should come with me. That way you won’t have to worry so much.”
Leon snorted. “Only if you convince Hunnigan.”
Chris’ grin was as bright as the sun. “Deal.”