Work Text:
The rain drips down your car windshield as you pull into a parking space outside Leon’s apartment building. It was only a gentle patter when you’d left your house on the east side but had gradually built to a decent pour now that you’ve arrived. You flick the car off and put your jacket hood up as you step out.
It’s a challenge in itself to avoid puddles on the way to the front steps. The parking lot asphalt has clearly not been redone in years and is littered with potholes deep enough to submerge your leg up to your ankle if you aren’t careful. You press the buzzer next to the door for number 118.
It crackles to life and you hear Leon’s muffled voice saying your name. You smile involuntarily; it’s been a while since you’ve seen him in person, especially since he started his new job at the RPD. With late shifts and conflicting schedules, it’s been hard to meet up.
“Let me up.” You say, and a mechanical grinding alerts you that the door has been unlocked.
You step inside, greeted by some stale odor you can’t quite place. Just to be on the safe side, you hit the elevator call button with your elbow.
Once you reach his floor, you find the door with a slightly peeling number ‘118’ and knock.
“Coming!” Leon’s voice calls from the other side. After the sound of footsteps, the door opens to reveal your friend.
He’s definitely filled out a bit since starting his new position; not that he was skinny before, but you absolutely notice a bit more tone to his arms as he leans on the doorframe. You also can’t help but note the bags under his eyes, evidence of his late night shifts.
“Hey!” He greets you, stepping aside to let you in. The smell of something cooking wafts from the kitchen at the other end of the small apartment.
“It’s good to see you, Leon.” As you remove your shoes, you can’t help but notice the much smaller pairs sitting on the rack beside Leon’s beat up sneakers. Strange, he hadn’t mentioned that he’d be babysitting or anything this evening. As a matter of fact, you weren't sure how much contact Leon even had with his family since moving to Raccoon City (if any).
Leon doesn’t seem to notice your hesitation in the doorway, leading you further inside. The living room is a similar story, where you notice a silver Game Boy on the coffee table alongside a well-loved young adult novel.
You sit on the couch, reaching over to pick up the game, turning it over in your hands. Leon stiffens visibly, hand reaching out for just a moment as if to stop you, before it drops back to his side.
“Do you have a little cousin over or something?” You ask, waving it. There’s a little sticker on the case that sparkles under the dim lamp light.
Leon hesitates for just a moment, before coming to sit beside you. He gently takes the game from your hands, tapping it nervously with one of his fingers. “Well…that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” He says quietly.
You frown, already doing some mental math. While he is younger than you, Leon is only 21. The shoes by the door indicated a child much bigger than a baby. How on earth did he…?
As if sensing your confusion, Leon quickly shakes his head, setting the game down carefully. “No, no. She’s not…She’s adopted. Kind of.” He says, running a hand through his hair.
That just raises more questions. As far as you know, Leon had never expressed a strong interest in raising a child. Sure, you’d listened to his drunk ramblings about wanting to start a family on one or two occasions, but nothing like this. “Kind of?” You echo.
Leon sighs, rubbing his temples. “It’s a long story. I helped investigate her parents’ deaths.” He says, voice somber. “She…I knew she didn’t have anywhere else to go. It wasn’t fair that she be put into the system. I didn’t want her to go through that.”
You nod, hearing the echoes of Leon’s own past in the foster care system in his words. “Did you officially adopt this girl? Or is it just a temporary thing?” You ask.
He fidgets a bit, glancing off to the hallway. “Well…it’s a bit informal. I’m surprised I even pulled it off, but I’m paying by working tons of midnight shifts now.” He’s quiet for a moment, then: “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Your heart swells, just listening to him. “What’s her name?”
“Sherry.” Leon smiles. “Her name is Sherry. She’s a great kid. Funny. Smart, too. She’s been working hard on her math lately, and got her test scores up 10%.” His voice is proud as he rambles on.
You return his smile. “Wow, I’m glad it’s going well for you.”
Leon’s face falters a bit at that, and it looks like he wants to say something, but then a timer from the kitchen starts beeping. He stands quickly, heading over. You follow, leaning on the counter.
Opening the oven, Leon pulls out a casserole dish covered in foil. He carefully removes it and pokes it with a spoon, frowning. “It’s a bit dry but…I swear I followed the recipe.” He mumbles, probably more to himself than you.
“It smells good.” You say, moving to pull plates down from the cabinet. You initially only grab two, but pause and grab a third, shaking your head at the strangeness of it.
Leon leans his head out of the kitchen and calls out: “Sherry! Dinner’s ready!”
A thumping noise comes from the hallway, and you turn just as a little girl rockets into the room. She’s dressed in blue shorts and a gray t-shirt that looks too baggy for her frame (the RPD logo on the front indicates it may be Leon’s, just tied up in the back). Her hair is blonde and a bit messy, though she has it secured back with a few silver clips. She freezes when she sees you, flicking her gaze up and down.
(It’s oddly intimidating.)
Leon quickly introduces you to her. “This is Sherry.” He adds after giving your name, as though you couldn’t connect the dots easily.
Still, you smile as you set each place on the table. “Hey, Sherry. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.” She says, voice small but polite. She glances quickly over at Leon, moving quickly to his side.
Leon, who is trying to discreetly add more salt to the casserole, gives her a quick pat on the head and nudges her toward the kitchen table. “Go sit down, hon.”
As she takes her seat, you look at Leon. “Do we need anything else?”
He shakes his head, walking over with the pan. “Nope. Thanks for setting the table.”
“Not a problem.” You reply smoothly, pulling out your chair.
The casserole is a bit bland, though you eat it politely. Leon keeps not-so-subtly checking Sherry’s plate to ensure she is eating enough.
“Your dad tells me you’re in school, right?” You ask, trying to engage Sherry in conversation when there is a lull. “Do you have a favorite subject?”
Some strange emotion flashes across Sherry’s face, though she quickly regains her composure. Leon, too, looks a bit uncomfortable, though you can’t put your finger on why.
“I like English.” She says, taking a bite of her food. “Leon’s been showing me this book series about dragons.”
Leon nods in confirmation, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah. Sherry reads above her grade level, so I’ve been having to find her more advanced stuff.” Again, that clearly proud tone is back as he talks about her accomplishments.
Dinner goes by smoothly, as Sherry describes the plots to some of her favorite books and Leon shares some abridged, child-appropriate work stories. Finally, Sherry disappears into the living room, and you can hear the low murmur of the TV.
You help Leon clear the table, bringing the dirty dishes to the counter as he starts to wash them. He pulls on these dorky rubber gloves as he scrubs at a dish, a small action that you can’t help but find endearing.
As you move to help drying, Leon speaks up.
“I know you didn’t mean it like that,” He says quietly, rinsing out a plastic cup. “But I’m not…her dad.”
You pause for a moment, looking over at him. While he had been so bright during dinner, some exhaustion seems to have settled over him in just a few minutes. His hair falls over his face slightly and you resist the urge to push his bangs away to see his eyes.
Thinking back, you realize your mistake from earlier, having called him such. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…I don’t know what your relationship is.”
He sighs, a long and drawn out sound. He sounds tired.
“She already had a dad. He’s just…gone.” He says, his voice almost cracking on the word. “I don’t want to force her to call me anything she doesn’t want to. She just…calls me ‘Leon’.”
You nod in understanding. “Totally. I’m sorry.” You repeat.
He shakes his head. “It’s fine. You didn’t know. I just…I do everything I can to make her comfortable.” He pauses for a moment, his hands submerged in the sink. “It’s so hard.”
You put down the plate and towel in your hand, placing a gentle hand on his back. You can feel the tension coiled there. “I can’t even imagine. I…” Studying him for a moment, you consider your next words carefully. “You know you can ask for help, right?”
Of course, as predicted, Leon’s stubborn attitude makes him pull away slightly. He continues washing the dishes, perhaps even a bit more forceful than before. “It’s alright. We’re doing fine. I-I’ve just been a bit tired.”
“Leon.” You say firmly.
He shakes his head again. “I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have even brought it up. I know you’re s-so busy, and—”
“Leon.” You cut him off, squeezing his shoulder firmly to get his attention. He stops and looks at you. His eyes shine under the flickering kitchen light. “Tell me how I can help.”
That’s how you end up sitting with him at the dining room table a few weeks later, mulling over his budget.
Leon looks a little embarrassed as you scan his scribbled spreadsheets, indicating his expenses broken down by week and month. “I’m not really good at this stuff.”
“That’s why you have a second set of eyes.” You say, hoping to ease his anxiety. Your heart aches a bit when you see how little he is taking in, and how much immediately goes back out. The salary of a rookie cop is not exactly lucrative.
The Food category, you can’t help but note, has a layer of white-out over it, like the sum has been re-written a few times. You kick yourself for not asking sooner.
Tapping your pen on the table for a moment, you open your own notebook to a new page and start copying over his regular bills, like rent and his car payment. Once those are jotted down, you start going down the list, beginning with what’s listed as Sherry Medical.
“She has a lot of doctor’s visits.” Leon blurts out, before you can even say anything. He still looks sheepish, drumming his fingers on the table.
“Do you get any health insurance or copay with your job?” You ask. Maybe it’s invasive to inquire, but you’re already looking at everything short of a bank statement right now.
Leon shakes his head. “Not yet.” He props his head up on his hand, pointing at the hearty value listed next to that category. “This, um, this is just approximate though. I don’t always use it all if she doesn’t have an appointment that month. Sometimes it’s just for her meds.”
You nod, putting a star beside it. “We’ll come back to that, okay?” Next is Gas, and you momentarily wonder if there is any sort of rhyme or reason to how he has this sorted. “Is this about how much you spend on gas monthly?”
He nods, and it gets copied over.
You go through a few more categories, either starring them to calculate a more accurate number or moving them over to the new budget. Most of his numbers seem right, but any time he gives you a vague shrug, you put a note to come back later.
Eventually, you have everything neatly lined up into a few categories (like ‘Essentials’, ‘Sherry’, ‘Bills’, ‘Entertainment’) and have figured out some more concrete values for the estimates. You’ve even managed to locate a few extra dollars he can start contributing to build an emergency savings fund.
Leon stares at the paper. “Wow.” He says softly. “I kind of feel dumb for not figuring this out myself.”
Shaking your head, you tear the new budget from your notebook. “Don’t feel that way. Financial stuff is difficult.” You slide it over to him and he goes to hang it up on the fridge.
“That’s for sure.” He mutters, moving aside some pizza coupons to make room.
As you go to put your notebook in your work bag, Sherry floats into the room. Now that you’re more aware of the financial situation, you can’t help but note the way her sweatshirt is a bit baggy and clearly secondhand.
“Leon, are you making dinner yet? I’m hungry.” She complains, before shooting you a smile. “Hi. I didn’t know you were over.”
“Hey, Sherry.” You greet, giving her a wave. You’ve become more familiar with the girl since you’ve started dropping by more regularly. Sometimes she’ll even ask you for homework help, or you’ll occupy her with a video game while Leon gets other work done.
Leon sighs, a weary look on his face indicating that he had not even considered dinner yet. Nonetheless, he nods and goes to open the fridge. He frowns, face illuminated by the fridge light. “Um. We, ah, don’t have a ton in here. Give me a second, kiddo, I’ll think of something.”
Sherry nods in understanding, coming over to sit by you. Her eyes flick over the papers on the table, clear understanding in her eyes of what it all means, though she doesn’t say anything. Your chest aches and you quickly move it out of her view.
“We could get takeout. Is there a place you guys like?” You suggest, watching as Leon digs around in the cabinets to no avail.
“Ooh, yes!” Sherry says excitedly, a big smile on her face.
Leon looks up, a crease in his forehead. All that worrying is going to kill him one day.
“I-I, um, I’m sure I can find something here. I try to avoid ordering out. It’s a bit…” The word ‘expensive’ hangs in the air between you, his gaze dropping quickly as he goes back to check the fridge again.
“Leon always talks about the diner by the station but he never takes me.” She says, giving him an almost accusatory look across the room.
Leon huffs as he stands, leaning on the counter. “Hey. I haven’t even been in months.” His eyes soften a bit. “I…Sorry I haven’t taken you.”
“What’s it called?” You ask quickly, sensing the tension.
“O’Donnell’s.” He replies.
You study him for a long moment. He’s still poking around the kitchen, like food will magically appear.
“C’mon, Sherry wants to go.” You say gently, “My treat.”
He looks like he wants to argue, but one look at Sherry’s excited face makes him sigh in resignation. “Alright. Fine. We’re splitting the bill, though, you hear me?”
(And if you slide your credit card to the waitress while Leon is in the bathroom, who’s to say?)
As much as he pretends to hate it, you can tell Leon is appreciative every time you bring fresh groceries or little gifts for Sherry. While the tired look in his eyes never fully goes away, you notice the way his sunken cheeks fill back out and he laughs a lot more.
It’s late at night, long after Sherry was put to bed. You’re not cuddling, but sitting far too close to be considered platonic. The brush of his arm against yours sends shivers up your spine.
The movie isn’t particularly interesting, just something you picked up on a whim from the rental place down the road. You roll your eyes at something the main character says, eyes shifting to Leon to see if he caught it, too.
He’s already looking at you. The only light on his face is cast from the television. He’s bathed in blues and greens (you keep telling him to wear more blue—he looks nice in it).
When you make eye contact, he immediately looks away. Despite the low light, you can see the faint, pink blush on his cheeks.
“Sorry.” He says, voice strained.
“Not my best one, huh?” You ask, keeping your tone light.
He laughs, looking back at you. His flush is still there. “Yeah, it kind of blows. How do you pick these things?”
“Maybe I have bad taste.”
“I think you do.”
You hum in response, eyes scanning his face like you’re searching for some sort of answer. What you’re not sure of is the question.
“What?” He asks, not breaking the stare this time.
“I wish you gave yourself more credit.” You say finally. “For your job, for the things you do for Sherry…you’re too hard on yourself.”
Leon shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “Maybe. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough.”
It hurts a bit to hear him voice that concern, when you know how hard he works. “You do more than enough. That girl loves you.”
You want to share that you do, too. That he doesn’t have to work so hard. Instead, you listen to his weary sigh.
“I know. I wish I could do more for her.” He shakes his head, looking back at the television screen. The bright colors swim across his face.
“You do plenty. You’re just a perfectionist.” You tease, because it’s easier than admitting the truth.
“Maybe.” He says with a shrug, because it’s apparently easier than accepting help.
When Sherry’s birthday rolls around, though, he’s more willing to ask.
“She wants all these new games.” Leon says, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he leads you to the back of the game store. “For her little...” He mimics the handheld device Sherry loves playing.
You’re unable to keep the smile off your face as you watch his little display. “Sure, maybe we can pick out one or two. Do you know which ones she wants?” It’s easy to locate the Nintendo display, scanning the games. “I know she wanted Super Mario Land.”
Leon picks up a copy of Pokemon Blue, cursing when he flips it over to see the price. “Jesus Christ. This is highway robbery.”
You immediately pluck the Mario game from the case, not even bothering to check the tag. “I can get them for her.”
He looks up at you from where he’s still crouched on the ground, frowning. “I can’t let you do that.”
“Sure, you can. One can be from me and the other will be from you. Then you can worry about getting her a cake or whatever.” You hold your hand out expectantly.
He groans as he stands, handing over the game. “I’ll pay you back.” He says weakly.
He never seems to have the cash in the following days, but you never ask.
The games are a hit, which you watch her open in the living room, with a dollar store paper crown on your head.
“You’re the best!” Sherry throws her arms around you, and you return the hug. Leon told you once that she had taken a few weeks to be affectionate with him, so it warms your soul that she seeks you out for that same comfort now.
“This is from them, too.” Leon says, holding up a little gift bag that’s clearly been recycled a few times. You shoot him a look and he glares back.
“It’s from both of us.” You correct to Sherry. She nods as she takes the bag from Leon and pulls out her long awaited Super Mario Land. Her jaw drops and she looks up at Leon.
“Thank you!” This time, she rockets over to him to grab him. He’s surprised, but manages to catch her and lift her into the air as she laughs. You smile at the sight of your family.
Wait. Your what?
“Once we’ve done cake, you can play.” The two are mid-conversation when you zone back in, still reeling.
Sherry does a dramatic little “F-i-i-ine”, though she immediately rushes to the kitchen at the mention of cake.
Leon gives you a concerned look. “You okay?” He asks, his voice soft. He holds out his hand to help you up.
You take it. His palm fits perfectly in yours.
“I’m perfect.”
Later, when Sherry is in her room tapping away at her game, you help Leon with the dishes. You can’t help but notice the parallel to that first evening as he pulls on his rubber gloves (new ones, though. He’d revealed after some cajoling that the old pair had a hole and you’d bought a nicer replacement).
You bring the plates over, sticky with frosting. Leon still hadn’t taken off his party hat, and it sits askew on his head.
“Well, I think she liked it.” You comment, reaching out to flick the hat.
He turns to glare at you, though you note the way his mouth twitches into a smile. “Hey. Are you going to help or just annoy me?”
“You say that like you don’t want me here.”
He withdraws his hands from the sink, leaving the gloves inside. Leaning against the counter, he folds his arms. “Maybe I don’t.” He teases. “You’re a distraction.”
Before you can stop yourself, you step forward, invading his space. You’re suddenly in the same little square of tile as he is. “Oh, so I’m distracting?”
Leon swallows visibly. “Yes.” He says, voice suddenly strained.
His eyes flick to your lips.
Since you know he won’t ever ask for it of his own accord, you decide to give.
Leaning in, you kiss Leon gently. He freezes for a few seconds before he relaxes into it, grabbing onto your shirt to pull you against him.
He tastes like mint chapstick and vanilla cake, his lips soft against your own. He lets out a little noise, tugging at you desperately as he deepens the kiss. You thread your fingers in his belt loops to further close the tiny space between you.
Your tongue trails along the seam of his lips, seeking entry. He opens his mouth and allows you to press inside. The force of the kiss has you pinning him back against the counter as your tongue traces over his teeth.
Far too soon, you have to come up for air. Leon’s face is flushed as he pants for breath.
“Jesus.”
“Sorry, you were saying?” You tease, though you know you probably look just the same. Your heart beats fast against your ribcage.
“And I wonder why I love you.” He mutters.
I love you.
Before he can stutter out the apology or backtracking you know is coming, you kiss him again. It’s much sweeter than the first, like you have all the time in the world.
And maybe you do.
(“Is that the last of Sherry’s stuff?” You ask, pushing the box into the moving van.
Leon wipes his forehead, already tired from the exertion of a day spent packing. This type of tiredness looks way better on him.
“I think so. That girl’s got too much crap. You need to stop spoiling her.” He accuses you, coming over to kiss your cheek.
“Make me.”
Sherry finally pops out from the apartment, carrying her backpack. Her eyes sparkle as she looks up at the loaded truck.
“Are we going now?”
“Sure are, kiddo.” Leon picks her up and swings her in the air, making her laugh.
Your heart swells. Your house had been so lonely anyway. You imagine Sherry’s giggles filling the halls, Leon’s footsteps in the entry when he comes home from work.
He taps you on the shoulder, breaking you from your daydream. “Ready? Truck’s waiting for us.” A little smile forms on his face.
“Time to go home.”)