Work Text:
Luis smoked the last cigarette before tossing it onto the worn stone floor.
About fifteen minutes ago, Luis was trying to recall a song that kept repeating in his head. He remembers being in a bar the last time he was in Spain, and that song seemed to cast a spell on people – they sang and drank, intoxicated.
The melody lingered in his mind before and after all the chaos in his life. The bed creaked, and his gaze fell upon a naked man, his only covering a sheet, sleeping peacefully. The sleeping blonde seemed to murmur between dreams, attempting to maintain his slumber. Luis smiled, a dry laugh escaping his throat.
His attention returned to the cityscape; its brightness and the thick smell of factories stirred a desire to return to his homeland, now reduced to ashes. He stepped away from the open window and returned to bed, seeking his partner this time.
"Mmh..." A soft gasp of complaint escaped the blonde as he was embraced around the waist.
Luis lightly kissed her cheek. “Keep sleeping, cariño, I'm here."
That assurance sufficed for both to convince themselves that all was well.
...
“Quiero ser el único que te muerda la boca” Luis finally hummed while playing the guitar to the rhythm of the remembered song.
The fabulous Luis Serra Kennedy-Navarro, he now found the song he had been searching for. Currently alone in the shared apartment, the walls covered in black sponge to block noise, he felt comfortable. Not that he hated discussing music with Leon, but some things he preferred to keep special. He paused the music to remember the next rhythm, then continued:
“Porque buscando tu sonrisa, estaría toda mi vida.” Though he hadn't spoken Spanish for a while, whether due to extended hospital stays or courtroom battles, he'd never forget its origin, even if revisiting the past's murders was painful.
Stop it; it wasn't your fault; you didn't know either.
Maybe he did know.
Déjame cerrar los ojos esta noche e iré a la cama con un cigarrillo.
Luis hummed again, searching for the rhythm. When he found it, he resumed...
“Porque en esta vida no quiero pasar un día entero sin ti.” Then Luis continued playing the guitar, focusing on the music, its rhythms, the lyrics, and the emotions it conveyed.
It seemed he might die in that cave; all his sins likely to be paid for with death. Yet, destiny changed when he woke in a hospital bed, Leon in a chair, asleep, waiting for Serra to wake. Warmth filled his heart.
Yes, people can change.
He continued with his guitar until a cold breeze in the room prompted a pause. If he were paid for every time Leon startled him, he'd still be poor, except for now.
“Puta madre, Leon Scott Kennedy,” Luis sputtered, hand on his chest exaggeratedly; Leon rolled his eyes mockingly.
“Navarro, you forgot my married name." The blonde entered, taking a seat next to his husband. Luis grunted.
“Didn't they teach you how to knock on the door?”
“Can't I bother my husband?”
Leon Kennedy wins.
Luis looked away, receiving a regretful kiss on his cheek, then refocused on his guitar.
“May I know what you were singing?” Leon asked, taking a cigarette from his black leather vest.
As the cigarette lit, Luis took a short drag of nicotine. “A song I heard in Spain."
“And what is it about?"
Leon's interest was fascinating and endearing; he acted like a child who discovered something new. Leon might be a cold government agent, but he was also a human who felt pain and joy.
“Basically, it's about being in love with that girl. Unless it has another meaning that I don't know." Serra responded, inhaling the cigarette, letting the nicotine burn his throat before releasing the smoke. Cold hands touched his cheeks, drawing his attention. Those blue eyes always stopped his heart metaphorically, and he always longed to keep those eyes with him. Twice he saw those blue eyes cry, once with happiness and once with pain, and he never wanted to see them cry again.
The cigarette moved away from his hand to finally be in the ashtray, then he had those soft lips against his, feeling like the first time again.