Archive of Our Own ^beta

Leon can’t sleep. He refuses to. He opts to wait until he’s home, then he can collapse into a heap on the floor. Or his bed, whichever he reaches first. He runs his fingers down his left arm again, still paranoid that those heart-wrenching, thick black veins would protrude again.

They don’t. He’s cured, as was Ashley. The nightmare’s over–he can breathe and close his eyes.

He can go home.

The drive back was dead silent. Instead of him behind the wheel, it’s some schmuck in a gray suit. Hunnigan figured after the long night he’s had, it’d be unwise to trust the government agent behind the wheel. There’s a hint of a running gag there, but Leon’s too tired to comment.

The sights tonight were muted: the sky was an inky blue-black, and the few stars Leon could make out were weak blots of silver between the clouds. The sun isn’t due to rise for another hour or so–

Leon hoped he was still asleep, his heart quivering in his ribcage. 'God, I hope he’s still asleep…I want to make it up to him properly in the morning.'

Going to another country after a mild disagreement with your spouse is never a good idea. And it’s never a good idea to go off to another country after a mild disagreement with your spouse when they’re afraid this could be the mission that does you in. Leon’s not the best with relationships, having a string of failed ones tailing him everywhere he goes, yet he’s been happily married for the last four months. Maybe dealing with BOWs for the rest of his days balances out the sheer bliss of having some semblance of a normal life.

Ha, define normal.

He hasn’t been normal since the Raccoon City Incident, and his husband’s track record wasn’t exactly squeaky clean either. They were perfect for each other.

“...” Leon didn’t say anything once the schmuck in the gray suit pulled up to his apartment. He nodded once when the suit’s voice echoed in his ears, words jumbled up and unclear; slinging his bag over one shoulder, the ash-blond with haunted blue eyes closed the door behind him with the heel of his boot, shoving his keys-free hand into his pants pocket.

Waiting in the elevator, Leon took a deep breath to collect himself.

He’s home. He’s on leave for a month, Hunnigan made it very clear this wasn’t up for debate. All he has to do is fill out the necessary paperwork concerning Las Plagas and submit it, but apart from that he shouldn’t be called in to recover from Spain accordingly.

A whole month. When was the last time he got a whole month off? When was the last time he had a proper staycation? The thought of not having to leave bed at obnoxious, early hours, or see his husband’s downcast expression as he threw things into a duffel bag before running out, or leave with this nasty pit in his stomach because while Leon S. Kennedy-Sunderland is good, he's no superhuman and one careless mistake could cost him his life…

It’ll be nice not to have to deal with those things and more for a while.

Leon is quiet as a mime as he heads inside. The door doesn’t creak, muffled by the thick carpet floor. His muscles ached; he flinched as he relieved a crick in his neck, setting his bag down after locking the front door behind him. 'Maybe I should sleep on the couch tonight…I don’t want to risk waking him up'. Leon’s thoughts hurt too; he ran a hand over his face, softly groaning. 'Can’t hide from him forever, Leon. You live in the same damn apartment. I just hope he still isn't mad at me…'

“Huh?”

There was a distinct shape resting against the kitchen island countertop. It was moving, breathing–a pair of legs were folded against the legs of one of the stools, and the shape shivered from time to time. It wasn’t cold in the apartment, so it must have been from dreaming. A soft whimper shortly followed. “James?”

“Hmm?” The shape against the countertop was a man, seemingly older than Leon but only by a few years. He shivered again, waking himself up. Bleary, squinty eyes somehow lit up the dark living room–or maybe it’s in Leon’s overactive imagination–a shade of bluish-green colder than Leon’s own, but brighter in the gloom despite the hardships behind them. He had blond hair too, closer to brown, somehow as Leon’s could be seen as brown too when not touched up, with some parted off to the left. His bangs hung a little long, but not as long as Leon’s. He pressed his hands against the spotless counter, straightening his back. Those already squinty eyes shrunk even more before they widened like those of an owl. “L-Leon?”

God damn, how Leon’s bones melted together hearing that voice again. And that voice saying his name in such relief, in such surprise yet happy at the same time...

Leon guessed the swoon came across his face, as James quickly got to his feet. He approached slowly, hands somewhat raised at his sides. He was dressed in his day clothes, his favorite jacket no doubt heavy with his scent.

Leon loved that jacket on him: army green, long-sleeved that hugged across the expanse of his back and shoulders. And the pockets, the big pockets–on particularly rough days, Leon liked to stick his hands in James’s pockets and hide his face away in his shoulder. James wasn’t as muscular as Leon, but his broad shoulders and somewhat wide chest somehow, enveloped the government agent whenever they embraced. More often than not it was Leon hugging James tight, but when the roles were reversed it was one hell of a good time.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Leon breathed, standing as still as possible. He didn’t dare break eye contact with James, waiting as patiently as his hurting body could handle.

James’s trepidation lessened, and it wasn’t long before he was hugging Leon. The ash blond threw his arms around his neck, letting out a shuddering sigh and squeezing shut his arctic-blue eyes.

A familiar musk filled the younger man’s nostrils. Warm, not leathery but woodsy and most important of all, alive. James was solid, firm, and warm, usually very warm which complimented Leon’s unnaturally cool skin. Leon felt James press his face against the smooth column of his neck, and could picture how his lower lip wobbled, teeth gritted beneath his upper lip, and smell the well of salty tears behind his feather-light eyelids. All the tension left the taller, only slightly taller, man’s shoulders–he could collapse in a heap right now if he wanted to, but he felt his husband’s fatigue so he refrained.

“You’re back.” James sounded as if the air had been punched out of his lungs. He started trembling violently, which unfortunately complimented the tears that made their way down his face. “I got in contact with Hunnigan, and she told me what she could but…w-when she mentioned having not heard from you for hours at one point, I got worried.”

Leon frowned. Sometimes he didn’t like the fact that Hunnigan and James got along so well. She didn’t cross any lines, she didn’t go around sharing confidential information or anything but she did have the habit of keeping James updated on almost every little thing about Leon’s missions. That wave of irritation died down almost immediately, however, as his logical side kicked in.

Hunnigan keeping James updated was a good thing. It was a good thing because it meant someone was waiting for him. Someone was hoping he came home alive, in one piece, and, with a bit of luck, not as haunted as when he left.

James wanted to know because he cared. Because he didn’t want to receive the gut-wrenching news that his husband wasn’t returning from his last mission.

Four years of this. Four years of dating and about…two to four months of being married? They kind of blend together, but James Sunderland-Kennedy has weathered more storms than the average person would give him credit for.

Not a lot of people would handle being married to a government agent, and a specialized one at that like Leon. They were in this together, but Leon wouldn’t have blamed the other man if he had thrown in the towel. It didn’t mean James loved him any less, and Leon didn’t think it possible to stop loving James, it just meant he had some self-preservation. But he stayed. James stayed with Leon, and somehow they were happy.

Leon’s happier than he’s been in years since meeting James…

“I’m sorry.” Leon croaked, rubbing his hands up and down the small of James’s back. “It was…this one was tough. It got a little too close for comfort,” as he said this, the ash-blond placed a hand against his chest. His ribs weren’t broken, but there was that phantom pain of the Las Plagas parasite swimming around like the disgusting freeloader it once was. “I’m alright now, though. And I got Ashley back safe and sound.”

“I knew you would. You always get the job done.” James’s normally guarded eyes softened while a hint of peach colored his thin cheeks and neck. “You can barely stand, Leon. Here, let me.”

Leon almost jumped out of his skin when he felt his legs give out from under him. James was quick on his feet, if only tonight, and caught his husband before he hit the ground. One of his hands directs one of Leon’s arms around his shoulder, while the other rests on his hip. The older man pushes off his heels, the ends of his toes–Leon is sagging but some feeling finds its way back into his legs again. His head lolls to the side, finding the broad, somewhat bony expanse of James’s collarbone. “There we go…”

“You shouldn’t have to do this.” Leon bemoaned, his eyes half-lidded and glassy. The exhaustion was finally catching up with the rest of him, and it was leaving him achy and unsteady. “You should be in bed.”

“I don’t sleep well when you’re not home.” James pointed out, that peach hue from earlier was now tinged red. He can feel embarrassment over the fact he’s been camping it out on the couch since Leon left, later. Right now, he needs to get the younger man comfortable and into bed. “I was worried. Please, Leon…let me take care of you.”

Leon’s face ashened. He didn’t reply, though, so James took it as a win. Their bedroom was dark thanks to the black-out curtains, but cozily warm. James barely stumbled under their combined weight–Leon’s more than bulked up over the years–as he sat Leon down slowly. The government agent’s heavy boots were muffled against the thick floor carpeting; the younger man bit his lip as James crouched down to get his boots off for him. His blond fringe, dark in comparison to Leon’s, at least in certain lights, shrouded one eye from view. The older man’s movements were deliberate and careful, setting the combat boots aside once he was done. Leon was regulated to sitting, resting back on his palms, and watching. His Adam’s apple bobbled up and down, quietly marveling how James could do this without any of the bedside table lights on.

James soon stood up to his full height and walked over to a chest of drawers. In one fell swoop, he pulled out one of Leon’s t-shirts, solid gray; from their closet he fetched a pair of black sweatpants, setting the clean articles out on the bed while he turned his head to look at Leon. “Do you need some help getting changed?”

Out of context, this inquiry was straight-out ridiculous.

“Couldn’t wait to get your hands on me?” A ghost of a smile touches Leon’s lips, and he’s rewarded with the desired effect: widened bluish-green eyes, a redness that went from the tips of James’s ears down to his collarbone, and James momentarily flinching away before recollecting himself. He smiled too, and he’ll deny it later if probed.

“You’re insufferable.” The older man grumbled, rolling his eyes. He took that as confirmation and wordlessly directed Leon to hold his arms up. Leon did as prompted, shivering as James’s oddly icy fingers grazed the hard contours of his abs. James kept his eyes glued to his husband’s face for any signs of discomfort–he swallowed hard when his gaze fell on the needle-thin, barely visible yet fresh scar inches below Leon’s collarbone. “...” His fingers traced the delicate curve, imagining a series of terrible scenarios in his head.

“Baby?” Leon whispered, having closed his eyes. He still couldn’t see with his shirt in the way. “You alright?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, sorry,” James clears his throat and finally gets Leon’s shirt off, tossing it aside for now for the cleaner, solid gray one. “Lay down for me?”

“Yessir,” Leon rolled his shoulders forward before settling back on their bed, his arctic-blue eyes now on the ceiling. He felt nimble fingers undo his belt followed by the button and zipper. The younger man exhales, letting his eyes flutter shut again. His pants are pulled down over his knees, further down his legs to join a growing pool on the floor. His body instantly feels lighter, and his skin is allowed to finally breathe. There wasn’t overwhelming evidence of the hellish time he went through anywhere on his person–the scars were internal, that being the case more often than not. He was patched up shortly after returning to the States, but no doubt James’s keen eye will scrutinize the results.

It was Leon’s fault for marrying a man who cares.

If James has something to say about the patchwork, he doesn’t outright express it. He keeps his mind, and hands occupied with pulling Leon’s sweatpants up for him. The article rested low on the younger man’s hips, and the shirt accentuated his thick arms and broad chest. The older man sighs, “You can sit up now if you want,” he says only for his hands to be taken and his entire body pulled forward.

James’s brain short-circuits, and he’s unable to keep himself from falling. Good thing his safety net is here: powerful, dependable arms loop around his waist as warm breath fans across the skin of his neck. “Leon?”

“You’re warm.” Leon’s explanation comes out muffled, his face pressed against the crook in James’s elbow. It wasn’t the most comfortable position to take, but comfort was trumped every time the government agent’s walls came crumbling down. He didn’t need to feel comfortable, be comfortable at the moment. He needed James. He needed James’s scent, his touch, the pressure that came with their bodies colliding, and most of all he needed his reassurance. That reassurance came through in his voice–hearing him speak, hearing him breathe, hearing his heart beating in tandem with Leon’s, that’s what the younger man needed. Getting comfortable and some shut-eye can come in later.

James’s flush worsens. It always knocked him on his ass how easy showing affection came to Leon. The older man wasn’t exactly cold–surly is the more appropriate term–but even when he kissed Leon or snuggled close to him at night, held his hand, or rubbed his shoulders while whispering to help him work through a nightmare, all of it pales in comparison to how Leon instigated moments meant for them and only them. Despite everything he’s been through, the government agent’s heart was still kind. It was kind, and it had so much love to give.

James didn’t think he’d find someone in the same vein as Mary, yet here he was happily married for a handful of months and, hopefully, for many years to come. “You’re cold,” he pointed out, seeking out Leon’s gaze. “It’s weird, you’re normally so warm.”

“Really? I think it’s the opposite for me,” Leon admitted, staring deep into James’s eyes. They were greener at the moment, with a hint of hazel–his hands moved on their own accord, cupping James’s face to bring him even closer.

Their noses brushed, the contact causing goosebumps to rise on Leon’s arms. His lips twisted downwards into a frown, brushing his thumb against the skin just below James’s right eye. “You’ve been sleeping on the couch, honey?”

“You know I don’t like being alone,” James murmured, wanting to look away but unable to with Leon holding him in place like he was. To avoid Leon lecturing him, not only about his sleep schedule but throwing himself out of their bedroom, the older man rested his full weight on top of the agent. He rested his full weight on top of him and pressed a small flurry of kisses across Leon’s cheek.

“You knew I’d be home soon. I always come back home.”

“Maybe if I hear that another hundred times, I’ll start to believe it.” Leon couldn’t help but giggle at his husband’s sudden sarcastic drawl. James must have heard himself, because he sighed and pressed a sweet kiss against Leon’s forehead. “I don’t mind sleeping in the living room. The couch is cozy enough.”

“Maybe for you, but I take a nap on that old thing and my back hurts like hell the next day,” Leon replied sorely, rolling him and James onto their sides. This was supposed to be the older man helping him get undressed; that’s gone out the window now. “We could get a new couch, something a little less lumpy.”

“Hmm? You want to?” James asked, his fingers absentmindedly running up and down Leon’s back. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “You don’t like going out to furniture stores, you get antsy.”

“Yeah, but I know you’ve brought up before us needing a new couch, and if you’re with me then we’ll pick out the right one right?”

“Ah, so it’s not just an excuse to spend more time with me.”

“So what if it partially does that?” Leon squished James’s face between his hands before bringing him in for a sweet kiss. “I think I have every right to miss my loving husband, don’t I? And I have every right to want to spend every second of every day with my husband because he’s so loving.”

“When you’re not away on a mission.”

“My point exactly.” Leon kissed James again, biting down on his lower lip.

The older man consented immediately, a soft moan escaping him as his husband expertly traced over the expanse of his teeth before pressing his tongue flat against the roof of his mouth. The kiss became two, then three and four and it wasn’t long before fleeting kisses divulged into a slow makeout session. Leon’s hands went to caress James’s chest, internally preening when the older man’s breath stuttered.

James tried to will his body not to react–there’s a time and place for everything–but he couldn’t stop the blood flow from traveling downwards. A thick, heavy warmth throbbed between his legs; his hips moved on their own accord, and Leon groaned as James’s cock pressed against the supple, smooth skin of his inner thigh. “J-James…”

“Sorry, I-I…sorry.”

“You’re apologizing for finding your husband attractive?” Leon pulled away with an inquisitive eyebrow. Only to smile and run the end of his thumb along James’s lower lip. “What if I’m okay with this, hmm? What if I want it?”

“You just got home, aren’t you tired?”

“A little. Maybe you can help me relax, hmm?” Leon blinked, purposefully fluttering his thick lashes. He watched as James’s Adam’s apple bobbled up and down, his eyes darkening with desire. “I’ve neglected us for a bit there too, remember? That’s on me.”

The government agent watched as the gears in his husband’s head turned, fighting back a smile. He’s going to win this easily. He wanted James, needed him after one long, hellish night. When he leaned forward to kiss James again, Leon trapped his upper lip between his teeth. He pinched the supple flesh enough to make James groan before stroking it soothingly with the tip of his tongue. “Please, sweetheart? I want you.”

“You sure?” James asked, only for Leon to assert his dominance by tangling his fingers in James’s hair and pulling him flush against him. Another searing kiss, a soft squeeze to James’s butt once the younger man slid his hand into his back left jeans pocket.

“What are you waiting for, handsome?” Leon’s smirk was barely registered as James pressed his mouth against the smooth column of his neck. He started with a simple trail of butterfly kisses, though his teeth came through when he reached the younger man’s collarbone. Leon arched forward, his eyes fluttering shut. “James…” Leon uttered his husband’s name like a prayer, hands moving to find purchase on his broad shoulders. He let his legs fall open, splayed as his fingers trailed downwards to work on the buttons of James’s shirt.

James’s eyelids fluttered as a shock of warm, pale sunlight smacked them out of nowhere. He wrinkled his nose, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his head away. When that didn’t work he raised a hand, as if to capture the light on the palm of his hand and do away with it for now. He couldn’t move it much, though, once the added weight against his chest registered within his still sluggish mind.

Leon’s head was resting on his chest, his soft breathing causing the blond hairs on James’s torso to stand on end. He had one arm wrapped tightly around James’s middle, his hair shrouding both of his eyes from view.

‘He’s home. He’s here,’ the surprise came through even in James’s inner ramblings, which caused a heavy stone to sink into his stomach. Of course, Leon would come back–he’s been working for the DSO for the last six years. Yes, it was technically blackmail but he’s gotten more than enough training over the years to handle even the most tasking of situations. Rescuing the president’s daughter wouldn’t do him in.

But can you blame James? He went through absolute hell in Silent Hill, and shortly afterward the Raccoon City Incident occurred. It’s where he met Leon in the first place, and after such a harrowing night they fell in love. James can’t tell you who fell first, but here they were still going strong. As awful as it was to remember that night, James thinks his life would be a lot worse if he hadn’t ended up in the middle of that zombie-infested city.

He’d probably be trapped forever in Silent Hill or dead. Or both.

James takes a moment to look at Leon, taking in every detail of his partner’s face in the rising sun.

His cheeks were thinner compared to how he met him, the roundness fading as he trained harder and harder, and the nightmares growing more and more grisly. His jaw had sharpened too, chin almost coming out to a point–his hair was lighter, sandy blond thanks to James’s meticulous dying skills, and his bangs had grown out. His lips were, somehow, thinner in certain lights and fuller in others, his nose seemingly more aristocratic. Leon’s eyes, when his mind wasn’t burdened with constant, racing thoughts, were a shade of blue that always made James stop breathing for a minute.

They were blue. Not a boring blue like sapphires or ocean blue, but an arctic blue. They were so light that the sun bounced off them in a way that turned those eyes into glass, yet dark at the same time. They were dark and expressive, how the pupils would dilate, contract, and widen which could mean Leon was angry, lost in thought, or–on rare occasions–scared. Leon’s eyes said so much with a blink or squint, and they were most beautiful when his heart was at rest.

His face so painfully beautiful brought James to tears, literally and metaphorically, whenever he smiled. And whenever he smiled, a real smile over the plastic, polite poses he gave when dealing with difficult superiors or in the face of horrors people could only see to believe.

Leon S. Kennedy-Sunderland was a daydream disguised as a nightmare.

“...” James brushed his knuckles down the smooth expanse of Leon’s cheek, tracing the curve of his jawline afterward. He watched with rapt fascination as his husband’s lower lip quivered, a sliver of tongue tucked behind teeth showing. The skin between his eyebrows pulled taut before relaxing, Leon pressing his cheek more against James’s broad chest.

Usually, James was splayed on his back during nights they made love, something perhaps comical to some given him being older and slightly larger in built-in comparison to Leon. James didn’t mind it, and enjoyed it truthfully–the nights Leon wanted his turn, however, weren’t nights James slept through. If it brought a sense of security to the younger man after particularly rough missions, his husband was more than happy to oblige. And yes, he was on his back but he did do a lot of the fun work last night...

“You like to stare, sweetheart.” James’s face burns as that pretty pair of blue eyes open, Leon’s thick lashes fluttering like a raven’s wings. The upper right corner of his mouth pulled upwards–James shifted to lay on his side as Leon stretched his right arm out, a few bones popping in the process, before resting it back around his husband’s waist. He squeezed down gently, lifting his head enough to press a kiss to James’s Adam's apple. “What did you do while I was gone? Hmmm?”

James exhaled through his nose, not sure what sentiment was stronger: exasperation or fondness. “I went to work,” he croaked, voice still thick from sleep. He cleared his throat, his fingers in Leon’s hair again. “I went to work, cleaned around the apartment, did lots of reading. I was going to change the curtains in our room, but I couldn’t find bedsheets that matched. I did vacuum the carpet though, and washed your pillow.”

“You ate three meals a day?" Leon asked sorely, pressing his face against the warm skin of James’s neck. He inhaled then exhaled slowly as if trying to drown himself in the other man’s natural musk.

James shivered. “I did. They were small, but I ate three times a day.”

“James…”

“I didn’t want to eat much. I didn’t like thinking about eating while you were away dealing with that cult.”

“Hunnigan told you that much?”

“It reminded me of what Harry told me about–The Order and Alessa,” James whispered, the hairs on his arms standing on end. “That’s why they wanted the president’s daughter, right?”

“Ashley. Yeah, they wanted to infect her with this parasite so she could spread it to her father. Then to the whole world,” Leon said, just recalling the hellish night leaving a bad tang in the back of his throat. “...I was infected too.”

What the government agent feared would happen did: James bolted upright, blue eyes wide with horror, and one of his hands now cupping Leon’s face as if to search his eyes for the blasted fucker. As if said blasted fucker was still swimming around inside Leon, setting up camp behind his ribcage. “Calm down, James. I said I was infected, past tense. Ashley and I were cured before we got off the island–we got Las Plagas removed.”

“Surgically?” James asked, gaze darting to and fro to every inch of bare skin he could find.

Leon rolled his eyes before gently tugging the collar of his shirt down. A very thin, faint line decorated his left pectoral muscle; it almost sat in the center of his chest, obvious now thanks to the sunlight. So that scar James saw earlier wasn't the only one. “Oh my God…”

“It hurt, but it was different this time.” Leon pointed out, resting a hand on the back of James’s neck. “We’re okay. I’m okay.”

“That they did that to you is one thing, but Ashley’s just a kid right?”

“Yeah.”

“And your fucking blackmail contract is what keeps you doing what you’re doing.” James’s eyes hardened. The corners of his eyes swam with tears. “You’re a good person, and you’d do this even without that…but that the government sends you out to die possibly and they don’t give a damn. Only Hunnigan and they’ll limit her access if they feel like it.”

“Hey.” Leon cupped James’s face with both hands, running the ends of his thumbs along his cheeks. James didn’t look at him again for a few minutes, only caving when Leon pressed down gently against his jaw. “It’s okay. I didn’t have a choice, but I’m making it work. I did what I had to do, and somehow I’m still here. Somehow I still get to have some semblance of a normal life. Somehow you’re still here and you still want me, you still love me.”

“Of course I do, Leon. We’re six years into this–I don’t think I’ll stop loving you anytime soon.”

Leon’s annoyance melted at the raw honesty with which James conveyed this. How his mouth pressed into a thin line, how his eyes brightened for a split second, and when he pressed his cheek against his husband’s palm sinking into his warmth once again.

James Sunderland-Kennedy wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a lot of love to give. Leon can’t tell you how he got so lucky–and Leon knew about James’s demons, everything he’s done both right and wrong in the past. He’s known since day one, and processed despite the death cloud looming over their heads while in Racoon City. Leon processed and accepted James’s truth, his reality, and married him knowing it all.

James wasn’t a bad person. He’s Leon’s haven. Nothing can hurt him here.

“James!” Leon shouted, the other man aiming his handgun at the monstrous-looking man. That large, bulbous eye rolled around in its socket, the man-thing letting out a feral howl. James trembled, white as a sheet but his shots weren’t wasted. He watched as a mixture of blood and pus oozed from the eye with every hit, ducking away from another wild pipe swing at the last second. James stumbled, and tripped over his foot; he pushed hard off his elbows and got up, a meat shield between Leon and whatever this thing was. Leon, just a rookie officer back then, scrambled to his feet, drawing out his shotgun. “Duck!”

James did as ordered, on his hands and knees as a loud ringing noise blew out his eardrums. He looked up to see the monstrous-looking man crumble to his knees, gripping his enlarged, inflamed arm with a look of complete agony on his mangled face. James let out a yell and backed away, Leon grabbing him by the arm and pulling him up. “?!”

“We’re trapped down here with it! We have to fight back or we’re dead.” Leon exclaimed, big eyes on a face that, while youthful, was wizened with determination. James swallowed around the lump in his throat, giving a faint nod in response. “Stay on me, and shoot only when you’re sure you’ll hit. We must conserve ammo and get out of this in one piece.”

“Got it,” James said shakily, his handgun suddenly cold and heavy in his hand. Leon broke the tension with a soft smile–beautiful with his glowing eyes and soft, warm face.

A blossom of heat spread to every inch of James’s ribcage, making his fingertips and toes tingle. He found himself breathing a little easier now, steeling himself as Leon reloaded. The monstrous-looking man stood again, raising his steel pipe over his head.

“Move!” Leon barked, the two splitting up and tackling opposite halves of the room. Another deafening roar; the footsteps behind James were faint, and muffled meaning the enemy went after Leon. James bit the inside of his cheek as he reloaded too, gathering all the courage he could muster before going around a corner and taking aim in the partial darkness.

James hoped he didn’t hit Leon by mistake.

“Leon?” James’s voice broke through Leon’s temporary stupor, his expression anxious. Leon rubbed the sand out of his eyes, brushing his nose against James’s and letting out a long sigh.

“I’m fine, just spaced out there. But I’m fine,” Leon replied, running his fingertips along the faint five o’clock shadow. “I want you to take better care of yourself, James. Even if I’m gone for weeks, that’s no excuse to let yourself go. You have to try and sleep in bed because it’s your bed not just mine. I know you worry, and I love that about you. Even when I think you overdo it,” James snorted stiffly, though he didn’t fight Leon when the younger man kissed him softly on the lips. “If you’re okay, I’m okay. Because you’re home to me.”

“You’re the best thing to happen to me. Ever since I left Silent Hill…”

“And I’m not going anywhere,” Leon stressed, tracing the somewhat deep bags under James’s eyes with the end of his thumb. “I’m not going anywhere you can’t, you’re stuck with me remember? ‘Til death do us part’, that’s what we said.”

“I remember,” Leon smirked when James rolled his eyes, huffing almost comically. “And I meant it…I want you always.”

See? This man is capable of being romantic. He just has the most bizarre timing for it. The fact that James can utter this after what happened in Silent Hill…Mary, Maria, Pyramid Head, Angela, Eddie, and Laura…the ups and downs had been worth it. Leon never gave up on James even when the older man believed it was the only outcome.

They’ve been through hell and back, but they’ve done all that and more together. Raccoon City and Silent Hill: are hellholes with something surprisingly human to offer. Sometimes.

“Wait, you didn’t eat anything last night.” James realized, furrowing his brows. “So who’s not taking care of himself now, huh?”

“I wasn’t hungry.” Leon retorted.

“But that was last night. It’s morning now.” James gently detangled himself in Leon’s embrace. He swung his legs over his side of their bed, cheeks going pink yet not bothering to cover himself up just yet. They didn’t shrug their clothes back on after making love. “You stay put and sleep a little more–I’ll bring you breakfast in bed.”

“James.”

“I’ll make you your favorite, and I can feed you if you want.” James’s previous tired expression faded, suddenly more alert. His eyes bled warmth, finding his discarded sweatpants at the foot of their bed and dragging them on and over his narrow hips.

“I have lots of favorites.” Leon pointed out, propping himself up on his elbows. He hummed when James, after putting on a shirt, pressed their mouths together. Morning breath aside–and it was bad on both ends–the older man gently ran the end of his thumb along Leon’s impressive jawline.

“Then you’re in for a surprise.” James pointed out with a ghost of a smile on his mouth when Leon wrinkled his nose, displeased. “Don’t be like that. You like my surprises, especially when it comes to food.”

“You are a great cook.”

“When I’m not at work, I’m a fully certified househusband.” James agreed, his fingers trailing from Leon’s jawline to catch a lock of his hair. “Also, we need to touch up your roots. They’re already coming through.”

“I was out in the pouring rain a lot running away from deranged cultists, sue me,” Leon grumbled, letting himself fall back onto his back again.

James snickered, poorly muffling it behind a relaxed fist. “Wake me up when everything’s ready?” The younger man’s voice fluctuated between steely confidence and rare tenderness.

“I will, honey.” James breathed, folding a hand under Leon’s chin. He pressed a delicate peck on his cheek, humming.

The older man watched as his husband’s eyes fluttered shut, a somewhat long chain around Leon’s neck. What hung from it was a simple ring: silverish white with a tiny, diamond-shaped cut sapphire in the center.

Seeing it rest against the somewhat smooth, warm expanse of Leon’s torso left a fluttery feeling in James’s stomach. Leon always wore his wedding ring around his neck while away on missions. His gloves can only do so much protection-wise, and the last thing he wants is to get it dirty or worse lose it.

Not that it’d be a big deal. Wedding rings aren’t the end-all, be-all with marriage statuses.

James lingered a little longer, just enough to see Leon roll onto his side, pull the comforter over his shoulders, and even out his breathing. Fingering his wedding ring, James left their bedroom door ajar. The living room was bathed in a fine sheen of sunlight, the carpet going from black to ash-gray. James padded into the kitchen barefoot, his skin leaving heated patches on the tiled floors. His clothes hung off him, making him fidget less; he paused to open the small kitchen window, watching as the curtains fluttered in the weak breeze. The sun was peeking over the horizon, waving and erasing the long shadows on the man’s face.

Keeping busy has become easier for James Sunderland-Kennedy as the years rolled by. While both men did their best to keep their little slice of paradise clean, Leon was pulled away far too often. James’s job as a secretary allowed for a little more leeway, so he took it upon himself to do the cooking and most of the cleaning. He didn’t mind being a homemaker. He loved it. A tiny hint of normalcy that he’s lacked in such a long time.

James decided on waffles. He took his time getting every ingredient out of the fridge, spreading them out on the counter. He found the big, light blue bowl in the dishwasher, and the whisk in one of the drawers, and washed his hands in the sink. ‘Glad I thought ahead to go to the store yesterday morning,’ he thought with an amused huff, opening the egg carton and fishing out four eggs.

The sound of cracking eggshells matches the chirping of some tiny bird outside–James picked up the whisk and watched as with every flick of his wrist the yolks congeal into a massive, gooey yellow paste. He went back and forth between fast and slow whisking, catching any flying drip on the lip of the bowl. Once the eggs were thoroughly beaten, James got out another bowl–this one smaller and red. He opened the bag of flour and shook out some, glad he thought to do this in the sink. After the flour, James added a pinch of salt, baking soda, and sugar; instead of water, James got out the milk carton and poured a whole cup. He checked the milk’s expiration date before pouring it into the small, red bowl–he knows he can use water, but milk makes waffles taste better.

‘And vanilla extract,’ he remembered with a faint chuckle, fetching the tiny bottle from one of the cabinets overhead.

Cooking is a comfort. It’s quiet, you can do it at your own pace–if you’re not feeding an army, that is–and it was a way to show Leon, well love. James was terrible with words, keeping everything inside so hardwired into his DNA. He’s gotten better, something his husband never fails to remind and praise him for, but old habits die hard.

So something as simple as making breakfast or Leon getting a good night’s rest when he was home meant the world to James. He didn’t think he could love again after Mary and thought he was a terrible person after Mary. He will carry the guilt for the rest of his life, but it’s not what solely dictates his life now. Six years…watch it become ten, fifteen years.

Always. He’ll always love Leon and hopes Leon will always love him back.

“...” James stopped and traced his lips with one slender finger.

“This is going to sting,” Leon warned him, his voice barely a whisper. He locked eyes with James again. He held the first-aid spray inches above the bleeding gash in James’s thigh, where the monstrous-looking man had nicked him with the steel pipe. The rookie cop had gotten any razor-sharp bits removed and had some bandages on him from when they raided the S.T.A.R.S. office.

James gritted his teeth, nodding. His eyes were slits, face pinched in on itself, in agony. Leon said, “Sorry” under his breath before pressing down on the nozzle.

James jolted forward, a biting cold spreading down his thigh. He balled his hands into fists and snapped down on the inside of his cheek–he tasted copper on his tongue, Leon holding his leg down so he wouldn’t kick him in the face.

The younger man was frowning, the corners of his stunning blue eyes glistening. He didn’t cry, though. Despite the fear in his eyes, there wasn’t cowardice. He was determined, still full of light…he wanted to live, and he wanted James to live too.

This guy was only twenty-one, his first day on the job and he was keeping his cool a lot better than James was.

“...” Leon got the bandages out, cutting a piece of tape with his teeth. He instructed James to lift and bend his knee a little–the older man complied, resting his full weight against the metal wall behind him. Leon’s hands were steady, making sure not to press down too hard. It was sickening seeing the bandages turn red with James’s blood, but that should hold until they got him to a hospital. “You’re going to be okay, James.” The younger man said, his chest rising and falling a little frantically.

“T-thank you,” James mumbled, the biting cold subsiding. He breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth. He relaxed his hands at his sides, his eyes–Leon noticed they changed colors–meeting wider, rounder ones.

There were bags under his eyes, a five o’clock shadow coming in, and his gray button-up shirt was wrinkled. His military-style jacket, dark green and many pockets and all, was stained with blood.

“You took some hits for me. I should be thanking you.” Leon argued, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You sure know how to handle yourself, James.”

“Not my first time dealing with stuff like this,” James grumbled. When Leon’s eyes widened in horror, the older man sputtered out, “N-not zombies, it’s not my first time shooting a gun I mean.”

That didn’t seem to do much in quelling the rookie cop’s worries. “I’ll be fine. We have to find our way out of here, right? I’ll watch your back.”

“You shouldn’t have to. I appreciate your help, but you’re a civilian. It’s my job to protect you.” Leon stated, his dark blond-brown hair seeming black in the low lighting. He looked away, biting his lower lip.

James watched as different emotions played across the younger man’s face: determination overlaid by confusion, frustration, and a sense of helplessness. He couldn’t save Lieutenant Branagh, and despite James’s willingness to fight alongside him, Leon felt responsible for his injury. He blamed himself for James getting hurt.

“You are protecting me,” James protested, eyebrows knitting together. “You are, you’ve solved most of the puzzles we found in the police station. You scope out every room before I go in, and when we faced that…that thing with the long tongue, you told me to run. You told me to run and hide, and I did. I don’t think most cops are equipped to deal with something like this, but you, Leon, are keeping me alive. You’re doing your job.”

James waited for his words to sink in. Leon’s lower lip was quivering, yet when he looked up at the older man there was a trace of a smile on his face. James couldn’t help smiling back–the younger man’s aura was infectious–no bad pun intended–and inviting. James would have probably lost his mind down here if he was alone. “If I had to be down here, I’m glad it’s with you.”

Leon chuckled, and maybe it was a trick of the light but James could swear he saw a hint of pink in the younger man’s cheeks. “Some first day,” he said finally, getting up from his crouch. “Can you walk? You can lean on me if needed–give your thigh more time to heal.”

James nodded, the feeling still in his legs. He started to push off his elbow when Leon crouched down again and slid his hands under his armpits. The sudden close contact caused James to choke on his breath, and his eyes to land on Leon’s face again.

The rookie cop stared back at him, lips parted as if to say something. Nothing came out though, instead just a moment shared between them. Leon was shorter than James, but only by an inch or two. Their eyes remained firmly locked, Leon and James exchanging breaths.

It was only when Leon lifted James onto his feet that the spell was broken. James shuddered, the warmth spreading from his chest down to his belly.

James, at some point, closed his eyes. The warmth from Leon’s mouth was still there, it burned his fingertips like a winter fire. He snapped out of it, remembering he was making breakfast. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and resumed working and actively ignoring his flaming cheeks.

Fine. fine, if you were to ask James who caught feelings first that night it was him. It was him, he’ll own up to it now. Leon showed up like a runaway train and became James’s salvation throughout the night. The older man was only alive because of the man who later became his husband.

He wasn’t alone. He never had to be alone again.

Having blended the flour mixture well, James combined the two mixes and stirred again. The vanilla extract had a strong aroma, ticking James’s nose even after putting the tiny bottle back on the shelf. James had the waffle iron already preheated, doing things on autopilot was a great talent to have. The older man glanced over his shoulder; Leon was still asleep in bed, his legs lumped under the comforter. “Good, don’t need him ruining everything,” James muttered with a hint of snark, turning back around and pouring the thick, vanilla-scented batter into the waffle iron.

Leon woke up when he felt a hand, large and thin and rough with calluses brush some of his hair away from his face. At first, he winced because the sun was brighter now and smacked him right in the face. Only once his vision cleared and he saw thick green, as thick as a forest, did he slowly sit up. He rubbed his eyes, sighing; James waited to set the tray on top of Leon’s lap, pressing a kiss to his husband’s forehead as he did so. “Morning,” James whispered, laughing when the blue-eyed blond made a face. “What’s the matter, honey? Woke up on the wrong side of the bed or something?”

“I missed my husband. He left me here all alone,” Leon replied, James, settling down in front of him. He looked down at the tray: a plate stacked with waffles, made from scratch and a cup of coffee. There were even strawberries on top of the waffles, which made Leon crack a smile. “He’s a great cook too, you know. He knows I like sweet things for breakfast.”

“Does he now?” James played along, nursing his cup of coffee. He took a tentative sip as Leon picked up his fork. “I’m sure he had a good reason or two to leave. Maybe to make you some food? Some sweet food? Does he know all of your favorite sweet foods?”

“He’s known me for years, so yeah I think so.” Leon chewed and swallowed before answering, holding his fork out to James. “These are delicious, you should have some too. I bet you haven’t had anything yet.”

“You’re right.” James’s smile broadened. He took the fork in hand and using the knife cut one of the waffles into smaller pieces. Leon watched him with a dreamy gleam in his eyes, zoning in on a droplet of syrup clinging to the corner of James’s mouth. “Do you always share your breakfast?”

“Only if the person I’m sharing with is as pretty as you.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Not always, you love it.” Leon took another bite, leaning forward and careful not to tip the tray over. James met Leon halfway and closed his eyes, sighing when their foreheads pressed lightly together.

Leon got up at least once–his breath was spearmint fresh, intermingling with the milk, vanilla extract, and maple syrup. James suddenly felt self-conscious; coffee smells great when it’s brewing, but not so great on breath. He’ll have to brush his teeth again later. “Thanks for this.”

“I’ve heard that having a home-cooked meal after a long trip helps some.” James shrugged, not pulling away yet. He took another sip of his coffee, and Leon did too once he swallowed another bite. The older man blinked when he felt a leaking piece of waffle be squished against his now-closed mouth; Leon was nibbling on one of the strawberries, his lips extra red and shiny.

James blinked again and opened his mouth. Leon giggled–feeding James was one of his favorite pastimes. The man always seemed stunned by his husband’s forwardness. Surely he knows this is coming; Leon likes it when they share food, even if it’s meant for him. Another way to stay close, another way to spend time together. His schedule was always a mystery outside of training and writing up mission reports–he could be sent away in two weeks, then what? Leon will have only these moments in time, these memories to keep him going.

To remind him why he needs to stay alive, despite the odds saying otherwise.

“What’s so funny?” James asked, shaking his head a little.

“Nothing,” Leon said, finishing the rest of his strawberry.

“...” James’s mouth twitched, his teeth peeking out a bit as Leon snuggled more against his chest.

After breakfast, the happy couple lounged on the living room couch together. On the small coffee table were James’s laptop and a small pile of books, which kept his mind entertained when he was off work and there was nothing left to clean. A long fleece blanket was normally thrown across the back of the couch but now draped over James and Leon. James pulled the blanket over Leon’s shoulders, tucking it around his sides. His arms were free, one hand resting on his husband’s back. The other was busy holding up one of his books, eyes losing track of his spot on the page.

Neither man wanted to go out today, and Leon was fascinated with seeing James read, listening to James read, and doing whatever he needed to do on his laptop. So that’s what led to how they were now: Leon using James as a pillow, eyes closed yet keenly aware of whenever his husband turned the page.

James was a history buff, so most books in his library pertained to history. He wasn’t deadset on just American history, and often sprouted random bits of trivia over meals or when doing chores. He’ll send articles for Leon to read when something was mind-boggling to him, and Leon saved every article even if he skimmed through most of them. The younger man did his best to read them though, because he wanted to understand what James was talking about. They tried their damnest not to discuss anything work-related when home.

“What is this one about?” Leon’s voice came out muffled, half of his face smushed against James’s pectoral.

“This one’s a more historical non-fiction,” James began, finally finding his spot and clearing his throat. “It retells the life stories of two men: Daniel H. Burnham, an architect who was the driving force behind the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair, and H.H. Holmes, a serial killer who lured his victims to their deaths inside his ‘Murder Castle’, disguised in his hotel.”

Leon propped his chin on James’s chest to get a better look at him. “It’s not always an easy read, but it’s interesting. Especially when the author goes into detail about the construction of the fair–its real name was the World’s Columbian Exposition, and people learned about elevators, the first voice recording, the Ferris Wheel, and lots more there. Did you know that the first Ferris Wheel was inspired by the Eiffel Tower?”

“You mean the same Eiffel Tower in Paris, France?”

James nodded. “Yeah, but in the end the World’s Columbian Exposition didn’t go so well. While it revolutionized American architecture and city planning, not to mention expose the American public to new technological advances, Chicago was hit with a smallpox epidemic. It spread rather quickly thanks to the fair. There was a fire after the fair closed that destroyed most of the buildings, and the city mayor was killed two days before the fair’s closing, so all the closing ceremonies were replaced with a public memorial service in his honor. Those are only some of the major events that led to the fair’s downfall–there’s a lot more, but I don't think those are as interesting.”

“Sounds like it.” Leon agreed. History wasn’t his forte, but James made this sound like an otherworldly experience. “Is that book the one you were waiting on from the mail, or one you already had?”

“I already had it, just never got around to reading it until now.” The younger man laughed when James looked away, embarrassed. “I think it was a good idea though, to save it for when you were away. I threw myself into researching everything I could, especially about Holmes. He wasn’t just a serial killer; he committed insurance fraud and was a bigamist too.”

“Sounds like one swell guy.” Leon drawled, his eyes light and twinkling. “You’re cute when you put on your research glasses. I bet you filled up an entire notebook with your findings, huh?”

James’s embarrassed expression was complimented with a heavy red blush. “Will you let me read it?”

“You want to? Don’t you have to read a lot of reports after missions already?”

“I have to write them too, honey.”

“My point still stands.” James pointed out, running the end of his thumb along one of Leon’s eyebrows. “You know my attention to detail–I write things down that aren’t even necessary to understand what’s going on.”

“If you don’t want me to…” Leon trailed off, searching James’s eyes. It wasn’t long before the older man caved, leaning forward to press their foreheads together.

“You won’t think it’s boring or…or lame? I know history’s not everyone’s cup of tea.”

“But it’s yours. And I want to enjoy what you enjoy. I can’t promise I’ll get most of it–a serial killer who was a bigamist and committed insurance fraud? I’d take someone like that over what I normally deal with any day.”

James snorted at that, “What? I’d be home more often.”

“True.”

“I’d love to read your research. In fact…maybe I can convince you to do an audiobook of sorts? Only for me, of course, but it’d be nice to hear what you wrote narrated by you.” James’s eyebrows nearly flew into his hairline. Leon, careful not to jolt the older man, shifted so that his knees bracketed James’s hips. His hands, careful and powerful with lean muscle, rested on James’s chest with dull nails catching on his shirt. With the right weight distribution, Leon sat on top of James–the blanket pooled down to his hips, a surprisingly sheepish grin on his face. “The long plane rides can get to you, you know. My mind wanders-”

“You never sleep on planes.” James nodded, his hands coming to rest on Leon’s sides. He ran his hands up and down, pressing down with his palms a little.

“But it gets boring doing that too. My mind can only do so much wandering. But if I had something to rectify that, something to keep my mind busy until I reached my destination, well, I think I wouldn’t lose my mind while in the air. You know?”

“And me reading my research on the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair would keep you sane?”

“It would keep your voice running through my head. It would make me think of how warm you are, and how I like laying on you. It would remind me that I have such a sexy husband back home, who will take such great care of me. Because you love spoiling me when I get home–you’re doing that right now.”

James let his eyes droop as Leon cupped his face with both hands. “My sexy, sweet, loving husband. I’m allowed to miss him, right? So I see the audiobook as an easy fix–I don’t believe in that ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ bullshit. It hurts to be away so long.”

It had been one night in Spain, but one harrowing night. So much to take in, to juggle and face…the journey to Spain had been hellish enough.

“...Leon, you have nothing to feel guilty over,” James assured firmly, once the puzzle pieces connected. He watched as the other man’s eyebrows furrowed, and lips pressed into a thin line. “I was in the wrong, not you. I…I shouldn’t have said what I said. You can’t control where they send you and for how long. All I can hope is that everything works out, that you come home in one piece.”

“You were right, though.” Leon cut in as gently as he could. “James, I don’t want another Raccoon City to happen again. It was different this time, and it will be different every time. As long as I can get up and fight, I will. And the thing is, you’ve never been against this. You hate it’s a blackmail contract. You hate the long missions as much as I do, but you still support me. You married me knowing this. I’m doing a lot of good, but that doesn’t mean I should put you aside. It shouldn’t be that way.” When James tried to look away, the praise too much, Leon brought him back with a kiss.

Leon parted his lips. James followed his lead, his heart racing. The two exchanged breaths, slowly with their eyes closed. Leon then let his tongue slip, hooking onto a corner of James’s mouth. The older man’s hands twitched before tightening on his husband’s sides, the kiss deepening–Leon’s fingers found their way into James’s hair, curling around fistfuls and stroking his scalp.

Leon heard blood pound loud, hard, and fast behind his ears. He gasped when he felt James nip his upper lip, but instead of doing more, he closed his mouth. The long kiss became many, and Leon felt self-conscious when a lonely tear rolled down his cheek. James stopped, feeling his husband shaking; he pulled away from Leon’s lips–much to the other’s annoyance–to catch the tear with his lower lip. It landed on the moist flesh like a raindrop. James then moved his lips up the watery trail left behind, his hands running up Leon’s sides.

“We both messed up. And we’re both sorry, can we agree on that?” James mused, opening his eyes to look into Leon’s.

The younger man made a face as more tears fell. Leon squeezed his eyes shut as James resumed peppering his face with kisses, each time wiping away a shiny, wet track. “Come on, use your words.”

“Okay.” Leon relented, shaking his head a little. “Okay, okay–you’re right. We’re both sorry, we both messed up.” The couple’s communication had its ups and downs, but they found each other eventually. They’ll make this work, just like with every other thing they’ve faced. They can handle anything as long as they’re together. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” James initiated the kiss this time. He folded his arms against Leon’s back, feeling his chest expand and shrink with every breath. He squeezed his husband’s middle, urging Leon to lean forward. His hair fell like a curtain over James’s face, tickling his nose; Leon’s lips were fuller, hot even when the rest of him was chilly. They encased James entirely, velvety-smooth–the older man shivers whenever Leon’s tongue traces the individual bends that made up his mouth, pressing down to entice a moan out of James.

As heated as their kisses can get, they had their moments in which wanting to devour the other was only figuratively. James only pulled away when his lungs started aching, coming to rest his cheek against Leon’s stomach. “...And maybe to the audiobook.”

“How do I get that ‘maybe’ to a ‘yessir’?”

“If I can get to the next chapter without further interruptions,” James answered with a lighthearted, somewhat scolding expression. Leon pouted, which made the older man smirk victoriously. “I want to get this chapter done at least. I’ve been stuck on it for a week.”

“...”

“If you want, you can turn around and lay on me again. I can whisper-read if you want.”

Watching Leon’s eyes light up was a highlight, no pun intended. James’s smug smirk transformed into a tiny, sincere smile as his husband did as suggested. Leon’s back was to his chest now, his legs, long and stretched out, between his–his short mane of blond hair tickled the underside of James’s chin, Leon folding his hands across his stomach. The younger man let out a brief yet content sigh, James adjusting the pillow under his head before propping the book open on Leon’s torso. “Alright, so where were we here…”

It took an hour for Leon to fall asleep. His head lolled to the side, resting in the crook of James’s elbow. One of his hands gripped James’s arm, done so while in deep slumber. He and James make it to the end of two chapters before giving in, but his husband’s warmth is too hard to resist. James bookmarks his spot before closing his book and sighing, drawing Leon closer to his chest. He lets his cheek rest on top of Leon’s head, giving the younger man a subtle, comforting squeeze.

A little nap won’t hurt.

“Did you hate her?”

“No,” James said, a little sorely. Despite gritting his teeth, the older man’s voice was soft.

Leon never took his eyes off him as he continued his interrogation.

“Did you ever cheat on her?”

“No!” That struck a nerve. James snapped his head up, dark eyes in flames. “Never, not once.”

“Was she…was she abusive towards you? While she was sick?” Leon was determined not to say Mary’s name. It felt wrong to discuss a dead woman like this, especially a woman who didn’t die from her illness but at the hands of her own husband.

James Sunderland didn’t seem like a particularly violent person, showing grit when he and Leon came face-to-face with things the stuff of nightmares. This man who has taken hits for Leon even helped bandage his wounds and gave him his jacket so the healing hole in his shoulder didn’t get infected, he admitted to smothering his dying, frail wife with a pillow.

Leon was still wearing James’s jacket. The urge to rip it off and throw it on the ground was great. He pushed it aside though, because that was the least concerning.

James didn’t answer. His eyes went downcast, the lines in his face hardened, and his mouth pressed into a tight line. It was like he lost all his energy in the blink of an eye.

So perhaps she was. It wasn’t uncommon: dying loved ones in their frustration and helplessness often took it out on their loved ones. Mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters–spouses weren’t spared the wrath. James was surly and meek. He seemed detached and spacey even, but the sadness in his gaze was profound. Leon noticed that James lacked self-preservation; the number of times he told Leon to continue without him whenever they had to split up…

And that he took several pipe swings for Leon, ending up with shards buried in his thigh.

This man wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t evil, so why did he kill Mary?

Was it too much? Did he snap in a moment of weakness? James looked dead on his feet since Leon ran into him at the gas station.

Well, Leon found him sprawled on the ground outside the phone booth. He found him sprawled on the ground, helped him get back to his senses, and together explored the horror movie that was the gas station before running into Claire. James didn’t hesitate to have Leon’s back, protecting him and Claire as well as he could in his panicked, confused state.

…

Leon couldn’t take back the awe he felt at the older man’s survivalist instinct. How he pushed Leon out of the police cruiser, while trapped in the backseat so that the other man could escape. How he pushed Claire out of the police cruiser too, before climbing over the gearshift minutes before the car exploded and was devoured by flames.

Leon couldn’t take back the admiration, over how this man thought to save two strangers before saving himself. Leon could see it again; himself only a few hours ago, getting off his hands and knees to grab James’s arm and drag him away from the flaming vehicle. The trail of flames swallowed up a dark trail of liquid–gasoline was leaking from the truck that smashed into the police cruiser. The combustion was immediate. Leon didn’t have the chance to warn James before he was sent flying into the air. He heard the older man yell as he was forced back from the blast, the sound of bone colliding with metal ringing in Leon’s ears.

And Leon couldn’t take back the shock that James folded his body against his to soften the blow–he felt a hand cover the back of his head, the older man groaning as Leon’s elbow dug into his stomach. James coughed and spat on the ground while Leon, on his feet, caught James’s arm. He caught his arm and pulled as hard as he could, his other hand resting on James’s hip as the other man leaned against him.

Leon had already developed a great respect for James. This man said so much with his actions, in so little time too so of course his admission to killing his wife shook the rookie cop to his core. His partner in many ways confessed to being a murderer. The same man who risked his life to save Leon’s over and over…someone Leon felt was a friend was also a killer.

The rookie cop tugged on one of the sleeves of James’s jacket, unable to look directly at him. Leon was at a loss. He didn’t know what to do or feel–everything in his head was a blur. Should he leave James? Was that the right thing to do? As a cop, it was his duty to protect civilians, and James was a civilian. No matter what he did, this was happening right now.

No, he can’t leave him behind. They said they’d get out of this together and rendezvous with Claire, and that’s what they will do.

James wasn’t going to discuss this further, and Leon felt only a tiny twinge of annoyance. They were on borrowed time and needed to get moving again. But the rookie cop wasn’t going to let this go. They would discuss this again later, when not in a life-or-death situation.

Day two of Leon’s staycation and the man wanted to go on a run. James complied, nodding once before going into the bathroom to change. Leon didn’t bother hiding his delight; James kept up with him pretty easily, thanks to running track during his college years, and it was the perfect excuse to see his husband in shorts and a hoodie.

James was older than Leon, not by much though. He was still eye candy–Leon thinks he only says he’s not to get under the younger man’s skin. Or maybe he just likes hearing Leon praise him, and point out his strong legs and shoulders. There was more to it, but Leon would be lying if he didn’t shamelessly ogle James’s thighs when he did stretches or his chest when it rose and fell after a sprint.

His husband was beautiful, relative of whether he saw it or not.

They were up pretty early that morning. Leon didn’t have the best sleep schedule, the same can be said for James. Trauma was a big factor–no amount of therapy and medications can take away what both went through–and instead of laying restless in bed, the two opted to do something, anything, together. Trauma made them appreciate the smaller, mundane parts of their lives; what they used to take for granted was a blessing, and if it meant the nightmares and flashbacks were kept at bay…it was a price both Leon and James were willing to pay.

The therapy and medications helped, but they weren’t cure-alls.

Leon only waited a few minutes before James was out again, wearing black shorts and a matching hoodie. It wasn’t every day the older man was out of his green jacket, and Leon appreciated it whenever possible. Leon opted for a black muscle shirt and gray compression pants, a ghost of a smile on his lips. James matched his with one of his own.

“Ready to go, honey?”

Washington, D.C. was a runner’s dream. It was still early in the morning, the sun yet to fully rise over the horizon. The sky was an inky blue with streaks of pink and red, not a puffy cloud in sight. The air was cool and crisp, while birds flew away in the distance.

The couple put down their water bottles to do some stretching. Leon bent down to touch his toes while James used a bench to stretch one leg out, then the other. When James stretched his arms above his head, Leon bent backward and let his arms hang; as Leon spent a few minutes jogging in place, James sat on the ground, spread his legs, and reached as far as he could while relaxing his back.

Muscles loosened, and the two men straightened up. James packed their water bottles into his bag and tucked it under the bench. They’ve done this enough times to know no one will steal it; he met Leon’s eyes, and both nodded before the younger man took off first.

Watching Leon train or exercise always excited James. His bangs fell over his eyes, and the muscles in his calves bulged with every step. Despite his frame–compared to six years ago–his footfalls were light. They barely made a sound against the pavement, a tapping more than anything. Leon kept his arms tucked at his sides, back straight and the hairs on his arms stood on end as the cool breeze became arctic against his heated skin.

James swallowed and popped a few cricks in his neck before getting into position. He counted down to ten in his head, breathing even. He imagined the sound of a gun going off; the initial popping sending him barreling forward before straightening himself out. James tucked his arms at his sides and breathed deeply through his nose. He felt the makeshift gust blow back his hair, Leon still in his sight.

There were a few joggers out and about. James didn’t wave to any of them, only mustering a smile if they glanced in his direction. Leon nodded now and again, focused on the sound of his beating heart–he looked over his shoulder as his husband caught up, his panting faint.

James claimed once that he’d quit running, as doing it nonstop in college messed up his legs and hips. He wasn’t built like Leon, but wasn’t a beanpole either. His appeal was in his shoulders and thighs, legs, and how his eyes changed colors. If we’re talking about physicality, those were James’s strengths.

What more there was to him was for people to guess and only Leon to know.

The younger man’s expression softened, he and James were shoulder-to-shoulder now. The older man was so close Leon could reach over and touch his neck–feel his pulse jump erratically, the light sweat sliding down his long neck, and the wet hairs on his forehead. He didn’t though, curving his desire. Instead, Leon winked and sped up, watching as James blinked surprised.

Ah, so it’s a race then. How Leon gets his kicks.

Sighing softly, James shook his head. He was smiling, and after gulping down air he pushed forward. He widened the length of his strides, keeping his arms tucked in. Leon heard the change in pace, smiling to himself. He quickly wiped some sweat off his forehead, using his shirt, and pushed harder. Biting the inside of his cheek, Leon turned the corner, his face flushed from the cold.

An hour later, James was wrapping his arms around Leon. the younger man snorted out a laugh, staggering and wobbling in place–he felt James’s cheek press against his, how his cheek was lifted in a playful smirk. The younger man turned to face his husband, the two standing a few feet away from a familiar bench. Leon flung his arms around James’s neck, bringing their faces closer. They were sweaty, sticky, and gross, and that didn’t stop Leon from seizing James’s mouth in a heated kiss. Their lips touched sweetly, James cupping Leon’s face while Leon’s hands slid down to rest on James’s chest. “...” Leon exhaled when James pulled away, arctic blue and forest green colliding.

God, he loved this man.

Leon and James always showered together after a run. It was their reward to each other, a way to show intimacy on their terms. Sore and dragging, the couple enter their apartment, Leon closing the door behind them. Their bedroom smells sweet, a woodsy cedar you’d catch if paying close attention–Leon strips down first, his skin still glistening from drying sweat. His underwear is caught in his compression pants, which he kicks aside once free. He shoots James a sultry look before making his way inside the bathroom.

James rolled his eyes, his cheeks tinted red. He followed his husband’s lead, his hair flopping against his forehead as he removed his hoodie. The couple left their shoes by the door, so it wasn’t long before his shorts and underwear joined Leon’s sweaty, dirty pile of clothes on the floor. He’ll put them away in the hamper later.

Steam had fogged up the medicine cabinet mirror when James went into the bathroom. Leon was leaning against the sink, his bangs in his eyes. He approached James, his bare feet leaving prints on the fuzzy, dark gray carpet. His hands landed on James’s arms, thumbs rubbing down on the damp skin. James closed his eyes, relishing in Leon’s gentle exploration; his hands went up and down his arms, along his neck, and back down to his hips. It was almost as if Leon was marveling over him–something so baffling because James was nothing compared to Leon S. Kennedy-Sunderland.

Damn, what a mouthful but one heavenly mouthful.

Taking James’s hand, Leon led the way into the stall. The glass, pleated with a foggy mismatched pattern appeared solid white with steam. James ducked his head a little, and the world became thick with steam. The two men went from moist with sweat to moist with hot water. Leon grabbed the shampoo, and squirted a fair amount onto his palm before working it into a fine foam–James leaned forward as Leon threaded his fingers through his hair; he closed his eyes, his hands finding Leon’s hips.

Leon watched as the lather turned watery, trailing thick, soapy lines down James’s chest. The older man kept his eyes closed as he felt around for the body wash–once he found it and the loofah, he uncapped the bottle and squeezed.

Eucalyptus and mint tickled their noses; James ran the loofah across Leon’s chest, grabbing one of his arms. Leon did as requested, flexing his fingers once James ran the soapy loofah between his fingers and down his wrist. After both arms were lathered, and after rinsing his hair, James crouched down to run the loofah up and down Leon’s legs. The younger man rested his hands on James’s shoulders, kneading them gently.

Leon remembers when he first started training with Krauser–James never liked him, and downright hated him once Leon told him what happened in Spain–how James would help him bathe. He’d come home bloody, beaten, and bruised from head to toe. Sometimes he’d use the door for support, unable to take a step inside without flinching. That’s when James would carry Leon inside, only stumbling at first, and help him strip. He’d help Leon strip while running a warm bath at the same time. Tossing Leon’s clothes in the hamper, James would help the younger man settle; he’d wash Leon’s hair and his back, all on a stool he’d place next to the bathtub.

Leon’s eyes would fight to stay open–James’s fingers massaged his scalp, and carefully combed through his wet mane. Sometimes he’d press kisses to Leon’s mouth, no warning just an urge he gave into. He took his time too, and by the end of it, his shirt sleeves and jeans were damp.

Leon never asked James to do this. It was something the older man came up with on a whim. Sometimes he’d join his husband in the bath, which often led to them having to take a second bath because they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. It was a special ritual, another way James cared for Leon.

Just remembering this brought tears to Leon’s eyes, and he shut his eyes to hold them back. He gently tapped James’s head. The older man looked up at him, curious. Leon then tapped under his chin, smiling through watery vision.

James’s eyes widened, understanding now and giving a light nod. He stood up to his full height as Leon took the loofah from him; Leon stole a quick, tender peck before running the loofah along James’s right shoulder. He leaned forward, purposely pressing his body against his husband’s. James turned his head to brush his mouth against the younger man’s cheek, exhaling lazily. When Leon tipped his head back, water pelted his face–when James pressed his face against his neck, Leon sighed and hugged him back.

Everything was alright. James was here. He was home.

Leon was home.

“You want me to carry you to bed?” James asked as he and Leon dried off. He ran the fluffy, dark blue towel over his head, catching glimpses of the other man.

His husband finished drying his legs before sitting on the bathroom sink. He swung his legs to and fro, his hair flat against his head. James turned to face him fully, the blond with blue eyes humming softly.

“You willing to indulge me?” Leon asked with a sly grin, tilting his head to the side. James rolled his eyes, pretending to be put out.

“If I must.” He said, wrapping the towel around his waist. “You need to stand up and put on a towel, though.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to change the sheets again this week.” James deadpanned, cupping Leon’s face with his hands. He kissed the other man’s forehead, letting it linger for a few minutes. “Be nice to our washing machine, sweetheart.”

“Fine, fine,” Leon replied, rolling his shoulders back. He hopped off the sink and took the towel James was holding out, this one just as long and fluffy only red instead of navy blue. He wrapped it around his waist, tucking it in on the front–only then did James slide an arm under Leon’s knees, the other pressing against his lower back.

“My big strong man,” Leon whispered, wrapping his arms around James’s neck. He closed his eyes, his smile broadening when he felt feather-light kisses on his nose. “You’re sweeter on me than usual.”

“I have my moments,” James mumbled, running the tip of his nose along Leon’s temple. They both smelled clean and fresh–a run is worth it now and again, but nothing compares to the aftercare. Once the older man was positive he wouldn’t drop his husband, James left the bathroom. Their bedroom was warm and their bed inviting; James sighed when his naked body met the sheets, with Leon on top of him like a weighted blanket. His eyes half-lidded, running a hand down Leon’s cheek.

The younger man leaned forward, his own hands sweeping across the expanse of James’s chest. James shivered, a red flush on his cheeks. “Why are you so fascinated with my chest, honey?”

“Why do you find it hard to believe I find you attractive, sweetheart?” Leon answered James’s inquiry with one of his own, not looking up from his husband’s chest. He traced the outline of his pecs before squeezing down gently. “Still sensitive I see, ha.”

“Groping your husband while he’s naked–such a covert o-operation,” James whimpered as Leon squeezed down again, the burn left behind deceptively delicious. The older man shook his head, his hands running down Leon’s sides. “I’ve always been sensitive, I think there’s no changing that.”

“Good. You’d be a boring pillow if you didn’t react every time I touched you.”

“I think me not reacting to your touch would mean something worse than a boring pillow.” James smiled as Leon let out a faint yawn. “We should turn in early tonight–we’ve got somewhere to be tomorrow.”

“We do?” Leon raised an eyebrow, blue eyes dark as he mused this over. “Wait…you’re right!”

“I’m telling the little lady you forgot.”

“If you do that, she’ll be mad at me for the rest of our natural-born lives.”

“She’ll be annoyed for a week then forget about it. Fiona can’t stay mad at you, Leon.”

“Or you.” Leon pointed out, tucking his head under James’s chin. “I bet you spoiled her rotten while I was away.”

“I tried to visit more often throughout the week. But we promised we celebrate her birthday together, and we’re keeping that promise.” Fiona is terrifying when upset because she always cries when angry or scared. James remembered Leon had a particularly nasty session with Krauser, only a few weeks into their mentor-menteeship.

His face was black and blue, his right eye swollen shut along with several cuts on his arms–Fiona’s screams woke up the entire orphanage, and she clung to Leon the whole time they played games and listened to her practice piano. It took James reading her a few stories, and some milk and cookies for Fiona to finally calm down; Leon caved and bought her a new toy the next day, a stuffed husky she carried around all the time. She was a sweet girl, sadly having experienced trauma so young. Before Leon and James, Fiona Belli wouldn’t speak to anyone and duck behind anything to stay out of sight with a panicky gleam in her eyes.

Nowadays though, Fiona was bubbly, more curious than ever, and spoke her mind even through tears.

Leon’s smile was softer, akin to the one he’d easily show off back as a rookie cop. “Yeah, I can’t believe she’s turning six already. Where’s the time gone?”

James watched as his husband bit his lower lip, eyebrows pulling together. “You know, I was worried I’d miss it. Before Spain, I was stuck on desk duty–when they told me Ashley was kidnapped, I knew I was in for it. I didn’t say no, I did what I had to do but…”

“Fiona’s a smart kid,” James said, running a hand up and down Leon’s back. “She might not know what you do, but she knows it’s important. She’d understand, honey. She’s special like that.”

“Yeah…”

James saw the gears turning in Leon’s head. Taking a deep breath, the older man pushed a little more.

“She’s special like you.” The younger man pulls back slightly to look at James, so many questions in his gaze. “She’s curious, she goes out of her way to help the younger kids–like a big sister–and she’s smart. Do you remember when one of the little girls dropped their dolls down the gutter? What did Fiona do?”

“She found some rope, and an old coat hook and went fishing.” Leon shook his head as he laughed, a hint of white teeth peeking out. “Hahaha, I don’t know how she came up with that, but she was everyone’s hero that day. Still is.” The younger man chewed on his lower lip again, “Fiona’s amazing…I just hope whoever adopts her sees that and helps her grow.”

“Yeah…” James tried not to sound disappointed. He saw it in Leon’s eyes, he knew what he wanted for Fiona. But until his husband says so, things will stay the same. “Let’s hit the hay now so we don’t sleep in tomorrow.” His mouth molded against Leon’s forehead in a tender peck. “You won’t need your gun holsters tomorrow. Everything will be okay.”

“I know,” Leon said, settling back down and closing his eyes. He gives the underside of James’s chin a little nip, soothing the red skin afterward with a sweet kiss. “Goodnight, James.”

“Goodnight, Leon.”

“Fiona! Leon and James are here for a visit!”

“Coming, Miss Macy!” A short, tiny blonde-haired girl quickly put her hair up in a ponytail before leaping out of bed. She was grinning from ear to ear, her blue eyes dancing in delight; she pulled on her trusty rain boots, shiny and a bright blue–like her eyes–and made her bed before leaving the big, wide, off-creme colored room. Some of the kids poked their heads out of the playroom once they heard Fiona stomping down the hallway, but she paid them no mind. Clutched tightly to her chest was her husky, and she didn’t have to go very far to find Leon and James. “Lee! Jam!”

The two men were waiting at the bottom of the stairs, Miss Macy giggling up a storm. “There you are!”

“You found us!” Leon exclaimed, his dimples showing as he smiled wide. James chuckled as Fiona took the stairs two at a time before leaping into Leon’s open arms. Miss Macy watched with a happy warmth in her chocolate-brown eyes, folding her hands over her lap.

“She’s been up since five,” Miss Macy told James, shaking her head fondly. “This little lady was worried you two would miss her big day.”

“Not for anything in the world.” James breathed, Leon sitting Fiona on his hip. His green eyes lit up when she reached for him next. He never thought a child would be so excited to see him. “Hey there, Fi. Happy birthday.”

“You came!” Fiona was over the moon, hugging James around the neck while still in Leon’s embrace. She rested her cheek on James’s shoulder, closing her eyes. “You two came, just like you promised.”

“We brought you presents,” Leon said as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind Fiona’s ear. “We have the whole day to spend together with you, Miss Macy, and the rest of the kids. Are you excited?”

Fiona nodded her head fiercely, holding up her stuffed husky. “Hey, Hewie! Nice to see you too, buddy. You do a great job looking out for Fi while Jam and I are busy. Don’t worry, you get a present today too.”

“Yay!” Fiona cheered as Leon set her down, twirling in place. She tucked Hewie under her arm so she could take Leon’s hand, then James’s. She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, looking adorable in her favorite rain boots and the long-sleeved, light blue dress Miss Macy made her for her birthday. “Let’s go say hi to the other kids first! They’ve asked about you and Jam, Lee. You have to play with them too. Let’s do hide-and-seek first, okay?”

Jam and Lee–back when Fiona had trouble speaking, that was the closest she got to saying Leon and James’s names. And while she could pronounce them, and many other words, now no problem she kept the nicknames going. Just like James and Leon called her Fi, after the musical note.

James gave Fiona a two-finger salute. “Whatever you say, little missy.”

“We follow your lead today.” Leon agreed, waving at Miss Macy over his shoulder. Fiona led the two men back the way she came, humming one of the latest pieces she learned to play the whole trip up the stairs. “We left one of your presents with Miss Macy, you’ll get it later okay?”

“Okay!”

Fiona was precious.

Leon hated it when he was away from James for long periods, and the same went for Fiona. She wasn’t their daughter, she wasn’t their responsibility but over the last year and a half, Leon’s grown attached to her. Both him and James–she reminded them that they could have a normal life despite everything they’ve been through. She reminded them of the innocence they used to have, and why Leon did what he did. It was a blackmail contract, but it was because of his work that Fiona could live in a semi-normal world. There will always be people creating and selling viruses to the highest bidder. There will always be people looking out for number one, and that could give less of a shit what their actions do to others. There will always be people like Krauser, Saddler, and companies like Umbrella. But they don’t have to be the majority. They don’t have to rule the world.

Fiona didn’t have to go through what Leon or James had. She didn’t deserve that.

“Jam! I can’t find Lee!” Fiona shouted, pouting as she crawled out from under the stairs. She stood up and hugged James above the knees, “He’s too good at this game. Hewie hasn’t seen him either!” She pointed to her stuffed husky keeping watch by one of the windows. “He didn’t sneak away for work, did he?”

James shook his head, lightly petting Fiona’s hair. “He’s around here somewhere, Fi. Trust me,” he said, crouching down to her height. “Hmmm, why don’t we startle him together? You already found me, so that means I can be your double agent.”

“Double agent?” Fiona parroted, folding her hands over her lap. “You mean…you say you work with Lee, but you work for me?”

For someone so little, she caught on fast.

“Yeah. Lee didn’t see you catch me, so he won’t think I’m on your side. I can get him to come out, and then you swoop in and grab him!” James clapped his hands as he explained his little scheme, watching Fiona’s face light up with a giddy grin. “What do you say, hmm?”

“Okay!”

“A little softer, Fi. So he doesn’t hear us.”

“Okay,” Fiona whispered this time, nodding and hopping in place. “Can Hewie still keep watch from the window?”

“I say six eyes are better than two,” James replied, standing up from his crouch. “Okay, I’ll go and trick Lee out of his hiding spot and you hide. You don’t want him to know you’re onto him.”

Fiona gave James the thumbs-up before scrambling away, managing to run on tiptoes. James watched her turn a corner before looking up the stairs, smiling.

Leon was crouching low by the stairwell with two kids on either side, a boy with freckles and ginger hair and a girl with brown hair and eyes. They giggled, only quieting when Leon gently shushed them. “How long are you going to keep this up?” The older man asked with a faint laugh, resting his hands on his hips.

“We’ve been at this for about an hour–I say I surrender.”

“I think that’s the best plan you’ve had all day, honey.” James retorted with a light snort. Leon beamed down at him. “Miss Macy told me that the decorations are up now. We just need to bring Fiona to the visiting room.”

“And the cake?”

“Hasn’t melted yet, but we shouldn’t push our luck.”

“You’re a lifesaver, sweetheart.” Leon cooed, which made the little girl giggle and the little boy gag. James went a light pink.

“Just get down here. I’m a double agent, remember? You said you surrender, so show me you’re surrendering.”

Fiona burst into tears as the visiting room broke out in a loud, off-key chorus of “Happy Birthday to you!”--Miss Macy had gathered the rest of the kids and every one of them was playing some kind of instrument. Light blue streamers and paper chains were hanging from the walls and ceiling; Hewie sat on the table next to a round cake covered in white frosting, with tiny blue flowers spelling out Fiona’s name. James was lighting the candles while Leon picked up the little girl and spun her around, drying her tears with the heel of his palm.

Fiona clung to the blond man like a blanket, trembling but smiling through watery eyes.

“Y-you did this? Everyone did this…for me?”

“Happy birthday, Fiona,” Leon said into her hair, pressing a tender kiss to her head. James’s heart melted into a puddle on the floor–Fiona pressing her face against Leon’s cheek to kiss him back.

His husband carried Fiona to the table, letting her stand tall in her chair. It wasn’t long before the little girl hugged James around the waist, her blotchy face seeking comfort in his green military-style jacket.

“You too, Jam?!”

“I hope you like your cake, Fi. It took me a while, I’ve never baked before.” James admitted, rubbing Fiona’s shoulder. “I made sure everyone could have a slice though, and that you had blue flowers on your cake because you love the color blue.”

Fiona lifted her head, lower lip quivering. James wiped her eyes with the back of his hand, his heart–much like Leon's–feeling a little less heavy today. “You’re special, Fiona. So you deserve the best on your special day.”

That got the little girl sobbing, snot dripping down her nose. Leon, Miss Macy, and everyone else smiled though, James taking out a packet of tissues from one of his jacket pockets. He freed one and wiped the snot off Fiona’s face, whispering, “Time to blow out your candles, kiddo. And make a wish, any wish you want.”

Fiona nodded, rubbing her nose. She turned to her cake, balling her hands into fists. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply through her nose before pushing it out through her mouth. The flames gave out, everyone in the room erupting into cheers and applause. The little girl smiled; she didn’t have to think hard about her wish, it’s been the same for the last few months. Leon handed Hewie to her, Fiona pressing his shiny, plastic nose against hers.

James helped Fiona cut her cake, giving her the biggest piece–she helped pass around the plates and forks, a bit of blue frosting on the corner of her mouth. Miss Macy helped with the seating arrangements, and Leon with the drinks. “I wonder what she wished for,” Leon mumbled out loud, finishing up pouring one of the kids a cup of juice.

Miss Macy heard him and, without turning around, said, “The same thing she’s wished for every day now: for a papa and a daddy to take her home.”

“?!” Leon almost dropped the tray he was holding, and his heart skipped a beat. He pressed his lips together, his eyes burning. James didn’t catch his reaction, too busy listening to Fiona as she told him about the new song she could play on the piano. She loved music, and she was getting better with practice.

Mary used to play piano, even if she wasn’t very good at it. James enjoyed hearing her play, and it was no different with Fiona. Sometimes he’d play with her, though she was better at it than him. And sometimes it was the three of them, Fiona and James and Leon, sitting on the bench and testing out the keys. Fiona seemed to like it more, whenever the three played together. Her smile could eclipse the sun whenever the three of them were together…

“That’s her wish, huh?”

Miss Macy nodded. “Fiona’s been through a lot and she’s only six years old. But that hasn’t taken away her innocence, her light. She has high hopes for the future; someone once told me that sometimes, it’s the people who’ve suffered the most that see the best in the world. They smile the brightest, they’re the kindest because they’ve suffered and don’t want others to go through the same.” The brunette woman fixed Leon with a penetrating stare, “Or so I’ve heard, I don’t know.” She smiled, “But thank you, Leon. You and James–Fiona has come a long way thanks to your support, and overall presence in her life. I think you two came around at the right time; to see her this happy, I don’t know how I could ever repay you two…”

“No one has come in to inquire about her?” Leon asked, abruptly changing the subject. At least to a point–his heart was pounding painfully away against his ribs, and when he saw James and Fiona laugh as the little girl smeared frosting off her cake all over his nose…

“Some have, but Fiona never makes it past the first visit.” Miss Macy stated, folding her hands over her lap. All the children were sitting down, happily munching and chatting away.

“...”

“This isn’t to pressure you and James in any way…but something tells me that Fiona’s already found her family. It’s just only a matter of time before things fall into place.” Miss Macy tucked some hair behind her ear before sitting at one of the tables. She left Leon hanging, left him to think about what she said–the blond man walked almost robotically back to James and Fiona, sitting on Fiona’s left.

“H-how’s the cake, Fi?”

“Yummy! Jam is a great baker!” Fiona replied, remembering not to talk with her mouth full. She rested her head on James’s shoulder, “Thank you, James.”

“You’re welcome, Fiona.” James rested his cheek on Fiona’s head, closing his eyes. Leon took a moment to look at them, his husband and this sweet little girl they’ve both come to adore.

The orphanage walls melted away, replaced with his and James’s living room. He saw Fiona sitting on her knees at the coffee table, working on what looked like homework. He heard pots and pans in the kitchen, so James was cooking–then he saw the front door open and waltz in…him. He saw himself waltz in, hanging up his gun holsters and toeing off his shoes. He watched Fiona leap to her feet, smiling so wide. He watched as she put her homework aside and ran to hug him, James sticking out his head from the kitchen. The little girl squealed when Leon picked her up and kissed her nose, his smile as big as hers. James stared, a look Leon’d never seen on his face before…yet somehow fitting. His green eyes filled with light, his posture relaxed and the bags under his eyes not as severe. He was happy. Seeing Leon come home made him happy, and in this perfect world seeing Leon come home to their daughter made him happy too.

Fiona. Their daughter.

Their daughter.

“...”

“Leon?” Wide blue eyes blinked, and Leon was back. He was back in the orphanage with James, Fiona, Miss Macy, and the rest of the kids. He jumped a little when his husband touched his shoulder, worry lines etched into his forehead. “You okay? You went quiet for a bit there.”

Leon blinked again. He looked between them, sighing softly in relief. Fiona was still engrossed in her cake, “feeding” Hewie some while she swung her legs back and forth.

“Y-yeah, was just thinking too much,” Leon replied, clearing his throat.

“About?”

“I’ll tell you later at home, okay?”

James narrowed his eyes, confused yet didn’t press Leon further. He nodded, letting it be for now, noticing some frosting sticking to Hewie’s “fur”.

“Careful, Fi. You and Hewie are such messy eaters,” James picked up a napkin from the stack on the table and wiped Fiona’s face for her, shaking his head in mock exasperation.

Fiona wrinkled her nose, grinning though.

Would it be so bad to see that grin every day? Is it so bad that Leon wants that, and can see it in his and James’s life together? Is it so bad that…that he wants to have a family with James?

…

“Leon?”

“W…what if we adopted Fiona?”

“...”

“She is a sweet girl, James. She’s sweet and smart, and I love seeing her so happy. We make her happy–she’s wonderful and I want her to be adopted. I just find myself hoping she isn’t at the same time because that means we won’t see her as much if at all…”

“...”

“I know it sounds horrible. I know, but I used to think that I couldn’t have a life after Raccoon City. I used to think having a home, having a husband, having this,” Leon gestured to their apartment with one hand, “I used to think I couldn’t have it. But we do, I do thanks to you.”

James’s heart thudded madly in his chest as Leon, with those big blue eyes and face carved by angels, walked into his open arms. He held his husband tightly to him, Leon trembling; a telltale sign the dam was about to burst.

“We have that here. I thought having a normal life would be impossible, yet here we are so is it impossible? Is it impossible for us to have a family? I want you to tell me, James. What do you think, honey? Please…”

“I care a lot about Fiona,” James began, choosing his words carefully. This was a decision that could change their lives forever–Leon found his surliness attractive but now wasn’t the time for that. “I care about her, Leon. Everything you said about her is true: she’s sweet, so smart and curious–I hate leaving her. I hate that she isn’t here with us, that she can’t welcome you home with me. I…I’d love nothing more than to start a family with you, Leon.”

Leon stared at James, flabbergasted. He couldn’t hold back his tears, as they trailed silently down his cheeks. James wiped them away with his fingertips, pressing their foreheads together as he did so. “I want a family with you, Leon. If you want that too.”

“James…” Leon bit his lower lip as he threw his arms around James’s neck. He pressed their noses together, the couple sharing a breath before they kissed. They were kissing, the younger man tugging on the collar of James’s jacket to keep him close.

If they didn’t have to breathe, James was positive the kiss would have lasted hours.

“What do you want, honey?” James panted, his cheeks a bright pink.

“I want a family, James. I want a family with you and Fiona to be part of our family.”

James’s answering smile split his face down the middle.

Leon felt a weight lift off his shoulders once that bright sunlight spilled across his skin. He, Claire, Sherry, and James emerged like moles or meerkats, temporarily stunned by the lack of metal walls, sewage, and otherworldly creatures trying to kill them. He closed his eyes and breathed in the crisp, clean air–he opened them and looked at James, relief coming off him in waves.

James mustered a smile back. It was smaller, but the warmth was there. It never left. That was enough invitation for the rookie cop to hug the other man tightly, careful not to knock him over.

Claire and Sherry’s voices faded into the background, either by accident or by the girls purposely giving the two men a moment to themselves. James pressed a hand against the small of Leon’s back; he sighed into Leon’s hair, closing his eyes and feeling at ease for the first time since this nightmare started.

It was over. This fucking nightmare was over and they were alive. They made it. They made it.

“Are they boyfriends?” Leon heard Sherry ask Claire, and thankfully her tone wasn’t disgusted but curious.

Claire snickered, shrugging her shoulders. Leon can answer that and the rest of Sherry’s questions once they are somewhere safe. They should let the two men hash it out, sort their feelings, and relish that none of them were mindless zombies.

Yeah, that’s the best thing about today. None of them were mindless zombies. Not something you’d consider a win, in a normal situation but their lives stopped being normal the moment Leon and Claire arrived at Raccoon City. Small victories are still victories.

“Are you okay?” James’s whispering sounded loud in Leon’s ears, one of his hands gently rubbing up and down the younger man’s arm.

“Ask me that after we get some food in us,” Leon answered, his voice muffled as he didn’t lift his face off James’s shoulder. He squeezed the older man’s waist, ignoring the twinge of pain in his shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere…are you?”

“There’s nowhere for me to go,” James admitted, frowning. Frank was out of the question–he hadn’t stepped inside his old home since Mary’s passing, and James has yet to remember how he made it to Raccoon City in the first place. There was a lot to sort out, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t be let free so easily as one of the few survivors of Raccoon City. “I’ll go if you want me to.”

“And if I don’t?” Leon challenged, his tone sore.

“...Then I won’t.”

“Good. That’s…that’s what I wanted to hear.” Leon whispered, his heart racing a little. ‘Don’t go. Stay with me, James…please.’ Whatever happens happens, but the rookie cop–is it ex-cop since it was his first and last day? He’s not sure–felt everything would be easier to process if he was surrounded by trusted people. James might have done things he condemned, but after talking it out, when they could, and the night they’ve had Leon can’t bring himself to hate the other man. He couldn’t and he wouldn’t; James was a part of him now, a part he didn’t want to lose. James brought Leon comfort during a time when it was a luxury. James brought Leon security when it seemed everything wanted to eat them. And James brought Leon peace when he felt his sanity slipping through the cracks.

For whatever reason they met, and they met for a reason. And if James wasn’t in a hurry to vanish, well, Leon wouldn’t push him to.

James can stay with Leon as long as he wants.

It took roughly a month and a half to make what used to be Leon and James’s office into a proper bedroom. It wasn’t like the room was being used much either outside of a quiet place to do work when the living room was out of the question. Some furniture had to be moved out, removed from the apartment outright, and rearranged, but with Leon free for the next few weeks the process took less time than first anticipated. Painting the walls was easy, James and Leon knew what color to use, and vacuuming the carpet floor was relaxing. From there, a few orders were placed for a bed, desk, and chest of drawers the two men built together by hand–visits from Claire, Chris, and Jill, and sometimes Carlos helped with figuring out what to put where.

And if they took great pleasure in seeing James and Leon lose their minds putting everything together for Fiona’s arrival, they didn’t bring it up. Maybe some other time, when this wasn’t such a huge step the couple was taking.

In the blink of an eye, it was the big day. James and Leon were dead silent on the drive to the orphanage, holding hands over the gearshift. When they pulled up to the large, heavy metal gates, Leon let out a shuddering sigh. His eyes burned, though when James leaned over to kiss his cheek, Leon smiled. “You okay?” James breathed, cupping Leon’s face with one hand. He ran his thumb over his husband’s cheek, humming to himself.

Leon blinked, leaning into the familiar caress. He let his eyes drift to the front steps of the orphanage–Fiona was waiting there, holding her suitcase tightly with both hands. She was rocking back and forth on her heels, Miss Macy with a hand on her head and the other kids standing anxiously behind her. Fiona had yet to see, or hear, the couple’s car, frowning at her shoes. Leon watched her for a few minutes, before undoing his seatbelt and unlocking his door. James quickly cut off the engine, honking only once to get Fiona’s attention.

The little girl jumped, blue eyes wide as dinner plates. They narrowed as she tried to get a good look at what caused the noise; Fiona’s nervous frown fell, replaced with a relieved, teary-eyed smile when she saw Leon and James get out of their car. The other kids waved and smiled, Miss Macy stepping back as Fiona ran down the stairs. “James! Leon!”

“Yeah,” Leon said out loud, he and James hurried to meet Fiona halfway. “I’m okay.” He was still holding James’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

Leon was better than okay. He was happy. His insides were in knots and his entire body shook like a leaf in winter.

But it wasn’t fear this time causing it. It was something warm, sincere, and fierce instead. It was a sense of freedom he hadn’t felt in so long, and as Fiona collided with them in a bear hug the sense of freedom only got stronger.

This was his life and, come hell and high water, he’ll decide where it goes from here. Somehow, someway he always does.

With James, and now with Fiona Sunderland-Kennedy.

Leon’s screams woke James up. The older man was off the couch and running into the younger man’s room, eyes blown wide.

Leon was thrashing about in bed, tangled in his comforter. Tear tracks glistened on his cheeks, and his teeth dug into the soft flesh of his cheek. “...!” James didn’t shout the other man’s name, instead carefully strolling over. He tried to pry Leon out of his comforter, having to duck or get slapped across the face. James remembered not to pin Leon down–that would only aggravate the situation further, and he didn’t want Leon waking up to an angry-red, hand-shaped print on James’s cheek. The horror would give away to guilt, and the younger man’s been through enough.

It took a few minutes, but James got Leon free. “Leon,” he whispered, grabbing the other blond by the shoulders. He didn’t shake, instead squeezing down gently. “Leon, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

Leon continued to fight, his mouth wide open in silent pleas. He jolted his shoulder, causing him to whimper pathetically. James flinched but didn’t pull away, cupping Leon’s face with one hand. “Leon, it’s me. It’s James.”

That’s when Leon’s eyes, crystal blue and wet, snapped open. His erratic breathing evened out a little, and when he touched James’s hand he was cold as ice. “You’re okay, we’re okay. Nothing’s going to hurt you here, okay? You’re home, we’re not in Raccoon City anymore.”

“...” Leon stared at James as if he was a mirage. He shook his head, lower lip quivering. Big, fat tears ran down his cheeks, James’s warmth sinking into his bones. “J…James?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” James sighed in relief, a hint of a smile on his lips. “It’s okay, Leon. You’re safe; you were having a nightmare, that’s all. Just a bad dream…”

Leon choked. He choked on air, on his broken sobs and trembling like a leaf in winter. He exhaled loudly when James folded him against his chest, careful not to press down too tightly too soon. The older man rested his chin on Leon’s head, running his hand up and down his arm. “It’s okay. Sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s not especially in a dream. But you’re awake now, you’re safe here at home.”

Leon let out a soft yell, shaking his head. “It’s okay not to be okay. It doesn’t make you weak, Leon. you’ve been through a lot, you have a right to deal with it. You did your best, and thanks to you, Claire and Sherry got out. I’m alive because of you–you did everything you could.”

Leon let out a shuddering sigh. He pressed his face harder against James’s chest, breathing in his familiar, musky scent. His eyes were on fire, and his stomach was upset. He felt like throwing up, but there was nothing to throw up. He felt cold and wanted nothing more than to forget Raccoon City ever happened.

But James Sunderland didn’t let go. He held on and waited, running his fingers through Leon’s hair. He kept the younger man warm, his lips pressing softly against his temple. And James kept Leon grounded, his breathing the most beautiful thing the ex-rookie cop had heard in a long time. At some point, Leon ran out of tears. He hiccuped, quaking a little–James squeezed him around the middle, silent as a grave.

“Thanks…” Leon croaked, his voice raw and his throat aching.

“You’re welcome. Think you’re good to go back to sleep now?”

“Can you stay with me?”

“If you want me to.”

“Then yeah, I’m good to go back to sleep.” Leon didn’t move a muscle, prompting James to move him around himself. Pulling the comforter back, James climbed into bed with Leon–he left his jacket on, Leon holding it in a death grip, and laid on his side; Leon wriggled around like an earthworm, resting his head back on James’s chest. The other man’s frame felt like an extra mattress cover, heating every inch it touched. Leon’s eyes felt heavy, exhaustion finally coming over him. “Goodnight, James.”

“Goodnight, Leon.”

Fiona pushed James and Leon’s bedroom door open. She slapped her hands over her eyes just as a streak of lightning illuminated the dark skies outside. The little girl shivered, gathering all her courage to climb her new papa and daddy’s big bed; her legs tucked under her, Fiona gently shook James awake first. Leon’s eyelids fluttered–his training made him a light sleeper, and the sliver of light blue alerted him. “Fiona?” James’s voice was deeper, huskier from sleep. He rubbed his eyes before sitting up, Leon following suit. “What’s the matter, sweetie? Is something wrong?”

“I’m scared,” Fiona whispered, hands pressed against her stomach. James raised an eyebrow, confused before ear-splitting thunder seemed to rattle the apartment. Fiona ducked her head, softly wailing. So that’s it.

“Ugh, thunder. It’s not my favorite either, Fi,” James said, easily bringing the little girl into his arms. She curled up against his chest, Leon scooting closer and wiping her eyes. “I don’t like thunderstorms, I don’t like them at all.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah, they’re scary. They’re loud, and the light is sometimes too bright. Lee doesn’t like them either.”

Fiona’s eyes fell on Leon, shock clear on her face.

“B-but nothing scares Lee! Lee isn’t scared of anything.”

“Sometimes I am,” Leon admitted, smiling. “I don’t like the lightning, it’s too bright like Jam says. He doesn’t like the thunder because it’s too loud–we don’t get a lot of sleep when it’s stormy like this, or at least we didn’t before.”

“W-what changed?” Fiona asked, Hewie, as always with her, was crushed to her chest.

“When Jam and I sleep together, it makes me feel safe.” Leon’s gaze stayed on Fiona. “He makes me feel like the lightning can’t get to me. It can’t do anything while we’re inside, and if it’s too bright I hide away in his jacket.”

“When the thunder’s too loud,” James picked up where Leon left off, “I listen to Lee talk. He’ll tell me a story, or something he read during his lunch break. I listen to his voice and then I can’t hear the thunder outside, no matter how loud it is.”

“Really? T-then can I stay here?! With you and Lee tonight?!” Fiona asked, immediately frazzled. She hugged both Hewie and her knees, curling into a ball. Leon leaned over and kissed her nose as James petted her hair.

“Of course, Fi. You can sleep here with Jam and me whenever you want.”

“Y-you and Daddy. You’re Papa and he’s Daddy,” Fiona declared, pointing first to Leon then James.

Leon’s heart exploded into a fine powder, and judging by how James’s eyes were red-rimmed and watery, the feeling was mutual.

“Exactly.” Leon was glad his voice didn’t waver. “You can sleep here with Papa and Daddy whenever you want to.”

“We’ll keep you safe from the thunderstorms, we promise.”

Fiona’s wailing slowly died down, James and Leon’s words settling in. She hiccuped and wiped her face on her sleeves but nodded once. James let her go so he could fluff their pillows, Leon bringing the comforter up to their shoulders. Fiona laid on her back, snuggling into the pillow and hugging Hewie to her. Leon pressed a kiss to Fiona’s head as James drew both of them close–the two men shared a silent chuckle when Fiona sighed happily, her cheeks not as pink. “Better, Fi?”

“Better. Thank you, Daddy. Goodnight Daddy, goodnight Papa.”

“Goodnight to you too.”

“We’ll be right here when you wake up, sweetie. We promise.”

Fiona drifted off almost immediately. Leon watched her shoulder as it rose and fell, his eyes drooping too. James was asleep, his breathing soft ambiance. The older man fell asleep running his fingers through his husband’s hair, a way to ground them both after Fiona’s panic attack. Leon felt James’s hand in his hair still, and that was enough for him to close his eyes entirely and fall into a dreamless slumber.

James was there for Leon. Leon was there for James.

And now they have someone to be there for. No matter what happened, they would always be there for each other and their daughter.

Always. This time was different.