Work Text:
It was getting really cold. Your fingers had long gone numb and clumsy - as you fumbled through your first aid kit. The snow had long soaked through your clothes, leaving you shivering whenever the wind picked up.
This was supposed to be a simple mission; a quick in-and-out job. You and Leon had been sent to talk to some locals in a remote mountain town - just gather some information about the hiker disappearances. They had all been friendly and happy to share what they knew; it was odd talking to people who genuinely had no interest in hurting you, but you welcomed the surprise.
You were making your way back into the centre of the town, after splitting from Leon to visit one of the farms on the outskirts. As you shivered violently, you struggled to even remember what had happened. There was a farmer - you think. And you caught him off guard? But you weren’t sure. Either way he leapt out of nowhere and shot you in the leg, screaming about who-knows-what before disappearing inside.
After that things got hazy. You radioed Leon, but all you got was static - so you stumbled towards the town in search. Maybe you should have pursued the farmer, but if he attacked you again then you would have been in no state to escape. The walk can’t have taken you more than five or six minutes on your way up - but on the way up you had two working legs. Within the first two minutes you'd made it almost half way back, but by then the adrenaline began to wear off.
You faltered, feeling a stab of pain through your leg, sucking in the freezing air. As you tried to hobble onwards, one misstep became two and then became five, before you lost your balance entirely. Veering towards the ground, you shot out your hands. At the cost of grazing your hands across the jagged rocks, you were just able to catch yourself. Pausing for a moment, you let the shock of the cold and the impact with the hard surface pass, taking deep breaths.
The skin on your hands was raw. It stung in the frigid air. Despite the cold that seemed to overcome the rest of your body, your leg had this aching - as if someone was driving a hot poker straight into your bone.
Where are you, Leon?
Inhaling deeply, you surveyed the damage on your leg. Your black trousers were soaked in - what you could only imagine to be - blood and clung to your leg. With a huge amount of effort, you steeled yourself and shifted into a sitting position. A gasp of pain ripped itself from your throat and - although no one else seemed to be around - you found yourself covering your mouth, desperately trying to hold the sound in. Maybe if you didn’t acknowledge the pain - it wouldn’t be so bad. If you were able to ignore it, then the injury couldn’t have been that bad.
Right?
From where you sat you could now see back the way you came. Your stomach dropped. A trail of blood - your blood - cut through pristine white snow. You glanced back down at your leg again; the fabric sticking to your skin.
Oh, fuck me.
You couldn’t afford to panic. You focused on breathing slowly and deeply - each inhalation shaky as it brought stabs of agony. The pain seemed to fracture up your leg with each movement - as though you were made of glass.
This was not the kind of Thursday you had expected. Pulling a bandage from your kit you tried to remember your first aid training, but cold seemed to make your mind sluggish. The snow fell heavier; the clouds overhead and fields blending into a grey-white mass. A horizonless sky.
Apply pressure
Yeah, alright. Apply pressure - okay.
Shakily, you lifted your hands onto the wound. This was going to hurt.
A strange part of your brain thought back to a particular day in the Police Academy, when you'd been practising first aid. Leon had been tying a sling for your "broken" wrist. You remembered how focused he had been; how he tied the bandage around your neck, leaning forwards so his cheek skimmed your ear. How he had grinned as he sat back, satisfied with his work. You remembered the heat in your cheeks at his obliviousness; how he was able to kneel beside you - your knees touching - without having any idea about the butterflies filling your stomach.
You pressed down on the gaping wound in your leg. A hiss escaped your mouth, followed by a string of curses. Blinking quickly you tried to focus on breathing steadily as stars danced before your eyes.
Fucking hell, ouch. Fuck.
Leon, where are you?
Squeezing your eyes shut you remembered the young blonde-haired Leon's boyish grin. He used to be so naïeve and keen. The day he'd asked you out he had practically skipped away afterwards - turning back twice to smile at you and awkwardly offering a little wave before he finally turned the corner.
He had grown a lot since then; you both had. Even so, he never lost his playful nature - something you were glad for. It wasn’t quite the same - since as Leon grew more confident, he also realised how nervous he could make you - which meant that he now knew exactly how to tease you and make you blush. His newfound cockiness just attracted you to him all the more.
Flurries of snow had begun to settle in your hair. It was really cold. Your feet hurt from the cold; your face stung.
I need to get up .
I can't stay here .
With a surge or determination you hauled yourself up into a crouch - then a stand. Pain clawed up your thigh as your muscles cramped and sent you reeling into a nearby tree. Setting your jaw you huffed out a breath.
I'm not fucking dying here .
You took one step, pausing to let the agony rising in your chest settle again - still half-leaning on the tree. Then you took another and then a few more.
Then you collapsed again, your leg giving way beneath you. The rocky path would have been difficult to navigate on the best of days, but once frozen the ice sure as hell didn’t make it any easier. You hit the ground hard, your arms shielding your head.
Oh my god.
I'm going to die .
You knew it was stupid. This went against everything you had been trained to do. Don’t panic. Don’t give up. Keep a clear head. Focus. Focus. Focus .
But as you lay on the ground, frozen and in - let’s be honest - the worst pain you’d ever felt, things weren’t looking so good. Each movement brought a new stab of agony, but you couldn’t hold back the silent sobs that tumbled from your mouth. The quietness of the snow was eerie and the grey-white sky made telling the time near impossible, but it must have been getting late - it was already past seven when you arrived.
It's not fair.
I'm so scared.
I don't want to die.
"Y/N?"
You froze.
"Y/N?" His voice came again this time sharper; harder. Then the crunching of snow under footfall.
"Leon?" You said, your voice small and hoarse, quickly trying to sit up, which was not a good idea as it dragged your leg across the gravel. A string of curses leapt from your mouth.
“Woah, woah-” He knelt at your side, putting an arm around you for support. "Shit, what happened? You're freezing."
Leaning into his side, you struggled to form words - instead fisting your hands in his coat as you tried to think - taking in huge gasps of the freezing air.
Most of the need to be close to him was from the sheer relief of not having to die alone in the cold anymore, but a small part of you - a tiny part, that you were a little ashamed of - didn't want him to know you had cried.
"I dunno." you wheezed. "Got shot, I guess."
"You guess ?" Leon echoed. Although his tone was snarky, you knew he was just trying to keep you calm and focused, as he fumbled with his radio with his free hand. "Hunnigan? We're going to need that helicopter after all."
The sharp pain now spanned the whole of your leg - as though it were resonating up and down the bone. You squeezed your eyes shut.
“Easy,” He spoke softly, as though to a small, frightened animal - which you supposed was appropriate. “Easy there, deep breaths,”
Remaining firm, he kept his hand in place; you couldn’t help but admire how well he feigned unwavering confidence.
You grit your teeth, inhaling as he said. Out of the corner of your eye you could see his grimace; the way his nose wrinkled up at the sight of your leg. You couldn’t blame him, the metallic smell of blood filled your nose and head. You gagged thinking about it - earning a gentle Hey from Leon, who rubbed your shoulder with his free hand, pulling your freezing body closer.
Now you just had to focus on staying alive. Easy.
Leon suddenly broke the silence.
“Hey, Y/N?” His tone was playful - maybe a little more upbeat than he intended, overcompensating awkwardly to hide the anxious undertone.
“Hm?” You replied - not necessarily disinterested, but more focused on breathing normally.
"Do you remember when we met?"
You furrowed your brow. Inhale, exhale. "What?"
"Don't you remember? That time at the party? I vomited in your car."
The memory flooded back, making you smile a little.
It was some party - the type that you knew uni students supposedly loved, but had never been quite your thing. The base was loud enough that you felt it buzzing in your feet more than you could hear the actual song. The twenty - maybe thirty? - people throughout the darkened apartment didn’t really seem to care. Or notice, for that matter.
Despite being a party consisting almost entirely of trainee officers - there was an awful lot of “drunk and disorderly” going on. Not to mention a fair amount of “Indecent exposure” and without a doubt “possession” of things you didn’t even recognise. But, hey, you weren’t going to ruin their vibe.
It definitely wasn’t really your scene.
You hovered in beside the doorway to the kitchen - unsure of what to do with yourself. It felt wrong to leave so early, but your friends had long since abandoned you and it wasn’t as though they’d miss you anyway. A girl you knew stumbled past you - her blonde hair recognisable anywhere - and for a moment you thought about saying hi. Then you noticed the boy she had in tow, who seemed to be getting awfully handsy.
Yeah, I’ll just leave them to it.
Abandoning your cup of - let’s be real - who-knows-what, you awkwardly squeezed through the crowd towards the front door. A few boys whistled at you as you tried to slip past them and out into the bleakly lit hallway. Although it was slightly easier to ignore as they were all drunk out their minds - it still made you wrinkle up your nose in disgust.
The door clicked shut behind you, muffling the noise of the party. Letting out a sigh, you stared blankly down the corridor, allowing your eyes to adjust to the brightness.
“Those guys are dicks.”
You whipped your head around comically fast, confused as to who had spoken.
“Down here,” He added and you turned, seeing him sat neatly cross-legged beside the door, just at your feet. He didn’t look at you, instead staring at the wall across from him. Even if you hadn’t been able to smell the beer, you could tell from the way he loosely gripped the bottle that he was smashed.
“Oh - uh, yeah.” you replied.
“I don’t even like parties.” He said, looking up at you. “I have no idea why I’m here.”
As you held his gaze, shrugging sympathetically - trying to place his face. He sat next to you in one of your lectures - it must have been a dull one, because you also remembered (making your face heat up a little) that you had spent a considerable amount of time thinking how cute he was.
What was his name?
Somehow he looked completely different here - instead of being so tightly strung and nervous that he looked as though he might just collapse if anyone so much as looked at him, he seemed freer; calmer. His hair was messier too, you noticed, as he pushed it back out of his eyes - setting off butterflies in your stomach.
Leon. That was it.
“If it helps, it’s not really my scene either. I’m headed home,” you offered with a small smile.
"I don't know if you've noticed," He said, matter-of-factly. "But I'm quite drunk, actually."
You stifled a giggle - he was much more fun to talk to like this, rather than his up-tight one word responses. If you were honest, you stopped trying with him within the first few classes, as he never seemed that interested in talking and the moment class ended he suddenly became some kind of record sprinter to leave the lecture theatre.
"I could tell,"
He raised his eyebrows, nodding seriously. "Smart girl,"
For a slightly too long moment he paused and you watched as he searched for his words. It was unbearably cute to see the blonde-haired boy furrowing his brow, clearly thinking as hard as his intoxicated mind would allow.
"I'd like to go home, but I can’t drive,” He said and then suddenly looked deeply dejected, as though the weight of his words just hit him. He let out a huff and ran his hand through his hair again. “I hate parties.”
On any other occasion, you would have left the strange drunk guy in the corridor, where he belonged - no matter how cute he was.
Yet, less than five minutes later, there you were, at two am with a very smashed Leon Kennedy in the passenger seat. It was lucky that you hadn’t touched your cup of mysterious liquid at the party, because driving with a passenger who has just vomited into a plastic bag four (maybe five?) times was surprisingly difficult. He was weirdly apologetic about the whole thing, groaning and holding his head.
“I promise I’m not normally this bad.” He gagged again. “God, I’m sorry.”
You tried to sound reassuring as you spoke, but the vile smell was enough to make you gag as well. Although driving quickly would have gotten you out of the rancid car sooner, every time you turned a corner or hit a pothole - the poor boy beside you grew paler.
“It’s ok!” you said, perhaps sounding a little too reassuring, your voice rising several octaves. He probably wasn’t used to drinking - you thought, glancing over at Leon, whose knuckles had gone white holding the plastic bag. “Not much further now,”
It was lucky the road was empty - as it neared twelve fifty - because you braked much more suddenly than you meant to, lurching both of you forwards slightly. Leon swore and threw a hand over his mouth. You swallowed, trying your best to ignore the retching coming from the seat beside you.
“Wow,” Leon said, his voice raspy. “This is a great way to impress girls.”
That made you laugh. Though you felt a little mean thinking it, you really got the idea that this guy didn’t get around as much as you first thought. He was attractive, sure, in a sort of pretty way - but he gave this overwhelming feeling of awkwardness; he was constantly sheepish.
Exactly my type.
“Oh, yeah - I bet all the ladies love this.” you grinned. “Remind me to arrange our second date once I’ve gotten the smell of sick out of my car.”
He actually laughed, sounding considerably more sober than when he got in. Although you wouldn’t want to admit it, the sound made your heart skip a beat.
“Wait, so in this hypothetical scenario - I convinced you to come on a date with me?” he said. You could feel him looking at you. “Hypothetical me must be a real charmer.”
Okay, so he definitely was not as sober as you had thought. Heat rushed into your face as you desperately tried to remind yourself that he was drunk. He probably just flirts with everyone when he’s drunk.
He continued. "Y'know, when I see you in class, I'm normally too scared to even talk to you."
You risked a glance over at him, finding him now staring out of the window into the dark. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, you're like," He paused. "Way out of my league"
Leon was clearly not sober, but spoke with such openness that it was difficult to not take what he said seriously. You focused on the road ahead of you, stopping at a red light and staring into the empty junction. The quiet in the car was by no means uncomfortable, perhaps the knowledge that he wasn’t going to remember this took most of the pressure away. His presence was so unobtrusive - calming, even - that it felt as though you had been friends for years. Although he may not have noticed it, you felt a distinct shift in the air between you. He'd started something; laid the groundwork for something to be built between the two of you. He’d given you a glimpse of who the two of you could be. And once he was sober again, in your next 09.00 AM lecture - he would feel it too.
Within a few minutes you pulled up outside his flat - this time doing your best to roll to a stop gradually. He thanked you, a little awkwardly, and apologised for the vomit smell. You smiled and insisted it was no problem. And that was it; he waited outside the door, speaking into the intercom and then disappeared into the flat a moment later.
It was a strange memory. Somehow, with only a few words, he had caught your attention. The whole way home you had thought about him; then while brushing your teeth the next morning and soon you found yourself waiting anxiously for your next lecture.
Leon adjusted his grip on your leg, which left you hissing in pain - grabbing onto his upper arm. Each breath of icy air stung at your lungs, leaving your head spinning even more violently.
“Yeah, I remember.” You said. “What about it?”
Leon tipped his head in place of a shrug - avoiding putting you in any more pain - and grinned. “I have absolutely no clue what happened that night.”
That was new. You felt sure you’d heard him talk about it before: to friends - or even family, occasionally - when they asked how you met. As you considered it, he did tend to stay quiet, letting you tell the story - only chipping in with the odd comment. After all, he was practically off his head that night.
Letting out a breathy laugh, you half-grinned; half-grimaced. “I never knew that.” You tilted your head to look up at him, continuing with eager curiosity. “So - wait - did you just think that I just randomly started to talk to you, after like a year of us mutually sitting in silence?”
He laughed. “Something like that.”
Mildly bemused, you snorted. “Oh my God, Leon - if you told me that back then I would have just about died.”
It was true. Even though, as you got older, your self confidence seemed to grow - back then you were no more than a gangly twenty year-old, who would have crumpled at the first sign of rejection. Embarrassed may as well have been your middle name, since you spent so much time convinced that everyone else thought you were an idiot.
“Hey, I wasn’t complaining,” He said. “When the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen starts chatting to you like you’ve been friends forever - you don’t question it!”
Even after nearly a decade - he still made you blush.
“Prettiest?”
“Mhm.”
As you struggled to find an answer that wouldn’t make you sound like either a disgustingly soppy romantic or socially inept teenage girl, your attention came back to your surroundings. With Leon there and the shock subsiding, you felt substantially warmer; your pulse was no longer thundering in your ears and while the pain was still by no means bearable, Leon had successfully kept your mind off of it.
“D’you know how long until someone will get here?” You asked after a moment.
“Not long now, " he said, glancing off into the sky, perhaps waiting to hear the hum of a helicopter in the thick cloud. “It’ll be fine, Y/N.”
And after six and a half minutes, you would see that he was right; it would be fine. You’d be operated on by one of the best doctors that the government could muster up and - without too much more hassle, you lived to see another day.