Chapter Text
Luis
The parasite latches onto Luis’ lungs. Then, it worms up his spinal cord. Finds a home in his brain. Whispering through toothpick teeth, it tells him that the man before him is the enemy. Senses numbed, Luis struggles to see the man as anything but.
Only Luis’ heart begs him to remember what this man means to him. His own voice repeats a name like a prayer. Leon. Even with his own vision drowning in blood, Luis can see the hopeless love in Leon’s aged features; a softer shade of red.
But Luis doesn't know when this body was last his. No wonder the parasite lingered. It was like he was designed to be under the will of something else. For so long, he was desperately unwilling to look down and see the blood staining the hands that dragged him along. Pretended not to notice when his blind devotion started to rot him from the inside.
The handgun quivering in Leon’s hand isn't raised, but to the parasite, his hesitation means nothing. The trembling girl behind him is just as much of a threat. Paranoia is all the parasite feels. Survival is all it craves.
Trapped, Luis watches the execution. Rage tears through the throat of his infected body as he rushes towards Leon like a wolf on its third week of starvation. Against this rage, terror grows like a tumour. When he catches Leon, this feeling swells, until no air can struggle through Luis’ windpipe. Luis’ mind only feels what the parasite wants him to feel, and it wants to condemn him to feeling every weakening pulse of Leon’s heart. Leon’s skin breaks under his nails; his insides throb warmly against Luis’ knuckles; his pained coughs shake against Luis’ palms. But when Leon stares up at Luis, the water in his irises is undisturbed by the harsh storm in Luis’ own. In the reflection of serene blue, Luis sees his own fierce ugliness. Beyond it, he can no longer make out the unconditional love that lines Leon’s tear troughs. Instead of reciprocating with his own heart, he bears Leon’s own, torn out bloody from his ribcage.
A woman screams, but the parasite disregards it. All it indulges in is Leon’s silence, and the deep sobs that wreck its host.
Luis reels forward. A sharp pain constricts his torso. With every quick inhale, it tightens. His hands shake, and he almost can’t bear to look down at them. But the walls around him aren’t bloodied. They’re buttercream, lined by pale wooden skirting and adorned by small watercolour landscapes of worlds far away from where he’s awoken. Which, he now realises, is a hospital. When Luis breathes in, he tastes fresh air. Sunlight glows through the open blinds, telling him it’s early morning. The sky is a soft blue that reminds Luis of only one person.
Then, he remembers that blue losing its shine, and the cool air turns to an ice pick in his throat. So visceral was the feeling of Leon’s heart in his hands, still beating with love. Finally Luis’, but in every wrong way.
It’s not like Luis never had nightmares. It’d be stranger if he didn’t, considering the things he’d done. Too often, he’d wake coated in sweat, believing that Leon and Ashley never made it out. Only he’d escaped, but his skin was unshed from its sins. That never stopped feeling real.
In Raccoon City, Luis remembers the infection burning through every vein. He remembers how much it hurt. But then he could no longer feel the parasite chewing on his spine, and Leon was holding him. The way Leon had looked at him… Luis had never felt such tenderness.
But he doesn’t know what happened after he closed his eyes. His last memory is that terrible dream.
Yet, as much as he wants to believe he’d only woken from a nightmare, he can’t help but doubt. It’s this uncertainty that makes Luis’ heart pulse until the fear shows itself on a monitor in jagged lines. He needs to move, to find anyone who might be able to tell him what is going on. He needs to find Leon. But his body lays heavy, bound to the tubes fixed to his chest and forearm. They ache with every strained movement.
Finally, when Luis follows these lifelines, past the drips and the vitals, he finds relief. Slumped on the edge of a cushioned chair, his body craned so he can lay his head close to Luis’ side without needing to lie in the bed himself, is Leon. Luis’ must’ve been out of his mind with fear to only notice him now. His hand rests near Luis’, and it’s warm with life.
Considering how close they are to one another, Luis is more surprised that Leon didn't wake when he lurched back to consciousness. Even as he shifts to lean closer, the only response he gets from Leon is a slight twitch. Luis smirks. It’s rare to see Leon so at peace.
Outside, he can’t hear any sharp footsteps or muffled conversations. No one will barge in. He can indulge.
Pushing away Leon’s bangs, Luis then admires all that he finds beautiful. In Valdelobos, there weren’t many moments to stare. But Luis would risk it anyway. He’d study the lines carving out Leon’s features with the care and curiosity of a researcher, taking note of the sharp slope of Leon’s nose and the softness of his jaw. He’d detail the thickness of Leon’s brows, and how Leon’s anger formed shadows over his eyes. Inevitably, he’d linger on Leon’s lips, always softened with pink, always pressed closed.
Now, Leon’s lips exhale faint, delicate breaths against Luis’ arm. The sun catches along the curve of Leon’s eyelashes, dappling the light against his flushed cheeks. Time has etched more lines into Leon’s face, and Luis aches to trace every single one. Stubble scratches along Leon’s jaw, and a scar cuts across his cheekbone. Luis hadn’t noticed that before.
He can’t help but also notice the different blooms of mottled skin creeping up Leon’s neck, marking the same expanse as his infection. He doesn't want to think about how far that progressed after he and Leon had parted. The main thing is that it seems to be left only as a raised memory. Thank god, Luis thinks. He really owes too much to Grace Ashcroft. It’s the first time he’s thought of her since waking up, shamefully. But he knows that if Leon is sitting here, body without shadow and gore, then she must’ve made it out too.
Just another reason to be thankful.
Though, if he later found out that it had been Ada, not Grace, who’d shown up with the antiviral, Luis wouldn’t even be surprised. She always had a mysterious sense of care. Thinking about her makes Luis itch for contact, if only to tell her he’s alive. Even if she’d claim otherwise, she’d want to know. But his phone is missing, and he knows better than to make her known in this hospital, likely crawling with people who would want nothing more than to apprehend Ada Wong.
Who knows? Maybe that’s why Luis is still alive. They dragged him back from the dead, just to cast him back down into the pit with the rest of the disgraced souls from Umbrella.
Luis sinks back down into the mattress. Nowadays, it seems all he can feel is panic, with his mind moulding doomed futures out of nothing more than a feeling. He’s tired of it. The monitors above beep a little louder as he fiddles with the empty space on his fingers where his rings would usually be. He misses them, like he misses his lighter, even whilst knowing the emblem engraved in it would make him feel worse. The hospital wouldn’t let him smoke in here, but it’d at least be something to take his anxiety out on.
His restlessness is enough to finally make Leon stir. He groans, a low rumble as he blinks away the sleep in his eyes, facing the world like a newborn deer.
But the sight lets Luis breathe. The worried pain in his heart swells into overwhelming fondness. Planning his inevitable court hearing can wait. It’s not everyday he gets to watch Leon wake so peacefully. Leon returns Luis’ gaze through heavy lidded eyes, but it still takes a second before his mind catches up with his body. When it does, he jolts upright, and away from Luis. He’d mourn their closeness, if Leon’s hand didn't immediately search again for Luis’ own. When he laces their fingertips together, Luis finds he can’t complain about much at all.
“You’re awake.” Leon says, straight to the point.
Luis pouts. So maybe he’ll make a little fuss.
“Is that it? No grand celebration for my return to the land of the living?”
“Oh, sorry, let me just throw a party in the hospital, the nurses won’t mind. Do you want a bouncy castle too?” Leon smirks. To Luis’ disdain, just the roughness of Leon’s post-sleep voice is enough to make a slight heat settle in his stomach, one that is not at all appropriate for a hospital room. He’s always had too vivid an imagination. Maybe, if he weren’t so drugged up, he could at least think of a response. Now, all he can do is stare and fantasize.
Luis misses when Leon was oblivious to these things. Instead of sparing him, Leon’s smile deepens, and his eyes catch the glint of the sun. His thumb draws slow circles near Luis’ wrist, and god, Luis must be deprived if just this small touch is doing so much for him.
“It’s nice to know I don’t have to do much to have an effect on you. I was worried you only wanted me when I was your pillow,” Leon says. Not even for a blink do his eyes stray from Luis.
“Always so big headed, Sancho,” Luis says. “I think whatever medicine they’ve filled me with is messing with my head.”
“You sure do love to call me egotistical. Projecting much?” Leon hums. “And you know that’s the whole point of morphine? Trick your head into believing you didn’t just live out the plot of some Z-list zombie movie?”
“I have a perfectly sized ego for myself, thank you. They might’ve given me something else, you never know. And I think this one was at least B-list.”
“You didn’t have to deal with the Frankenstein knockoff. And they couldn’t have, when I was here the entire time.”
Suddenly, Leon's sombers. His grip on Luis’ hand tightens. “Fuck, I waited too long for you to wake back up, Luis. I thought… I was…”
He trails off. For Leon, vulnerability doesn’t come easy. It was trained out of him through gruelling missions and innocent deaths. That’s why it shakes Luis when Leon looks at him and admits: “I was terrified.”
The lightness in Luis’ chest densens to lead. It aches to feel the fear in Leon’s voice; to see it bleeding from a bitten lip, and to not know how long it’s been there.
“I don’t actually remember leaving Raccoon City,” Luis confesses, though Leon could have figured that out himself. “Has it been a while?”
“A few days.” Leon mumbles. “I’ve seen worse, but… well, Grace’s blood isn’t like your fancy radiation machine. I should’ve known that. But I guess I was too relieved you were okay. God, I was so fucking happy that it made me stupid.”
“Oh.” Luis doesn’t need Leon to say more. The blood was only a suppressant. He knows what that means.
His fears raise as bile in his throat. “Leon. Tell me I didn’t hurt you.”
The lines in Leon’s forehead darken. “No- I mean, the parasite tried, but that was after we’d found you in Raccoon. When that thing tried to come back a second time, you still had the black veins and the red eyes, but none of the anger. You just wanted to sleep. It was a pain to keep you at least conscious before the surgery. But I hadn’t done all that shit just to lose you again.”
Luis doesn’t know how to respond to the broken quivering in Leon’s voice, nor the truth that his nightmare had been close to reality. Guilt gnaws at the spot the parasite used to.
Noticing, Leon dips his voice to a soft whisper. “Luis, hey. It wasn’t you. And I made sure there wasn’t a single piece of that thing left. Probably made those surgeons hate my ass, worrying over you like some mother-hen.”
Despite Leon’s best efforts, Luis still feels the blame. Eventually, the parasite would’ve consumed him. He’d known that, and risked Leon and Grace anyway. Yet, it was only because of them that, for the first time in decades, every ugly and beautiful thought was his own.
But, if he voiced that, Leon wouldn’t listen. I was infected too, wasn’t I? Your reasoning is bullshit, Luis. If it were Leon bearing this guilt instead, Luis doesn’t trust that he wouldn’t say the same.
He doesn’t want to argue with Leon. Not now. And if Leon is surprised that Luis lets him win this one, he doesn’t show it.
“I don’t think it’s everyday that they have to remove a mind controlling parasite from Spain, Leon.” Luis pauses. “What did you even tell them?”
“Just the shit you told me and Ashley, back in Spain.‘Course, they wouldn’t let me off too easily.” Leon pinches at the space between his eyes. “I didn’t want to, Luis, but… they recognised you. From the list of Umbrella escapees. I had to explain that to them.”
Dry-mouthed, Luis nods. The sinking dread that Leon’s awakening quietened now rears its head.
No amount of remorse or good deeds could scrub clean what he’d done in Raccoon City.
“Still keeping me on file, eh? I definitely feel wanted." Then, because he can still be an asshole when he wants to be, “Did you have to tell them all about my unwavering allegiance to our lovely Ada Wong too?”
Leon only takes the bait with a glare, as he hisses at Luis to shut up. “She came here to make sure you were alive, and then, you know, did what she always does.” He mimes a poof. “They don’t know about her association with you or Elpis, and I plan to keep it that way. You’re not the only one who still cares about her, Luis.”
Inside Luis, a dirty, green weed regrows. He knows it’s unfair, to hold Leon’s past affections with Ada against him, as if Luis didn’t gladly allow himself to be caught by her lure too. And, in a different, strange way, he does love her.
But it’s still nothing like how he feels for Leon. So sue him for suffering a little jealousy.
The feeling is tamed when Leon’s features soften, and he speaks with a patience Luis feels he doesn’t deserve. “I get why you’re worried. But things have changed, Luis. And so do people. I mean, I didn’t always have such a perfect five o’clock shadow, did I?”
Luis huffs out a laugh. With a satisfied smile, Leon continues. “All that Umbrella shit? That’s not been you for a long time. So, I’ll do whatever I need to make sure that doesn’t hang over you anymore. I’ll annoy Hunnigan about it, or I’ll talk to Chris. I know Ashley and Grace would do what they can. Trust that when you walk outta here, it’ll be with a clean slate.”
Every expanse of Luis’ chest aches. He smooths down the calluses on Leon’s palm. Hoping his touch might tell Leon everything he can’t in words. All the apologies for the past; all his hopes for the future. Tentative, he whispers into Leon’s knuckles. “Thank you, mi corazon.”
At the endearment, Leon blooms. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t have done the same for me,” he whispers back. “It’s kind of what you do, isn’t it? For the person you love.” The last word stumbles out, less confident than the rest. Against Luis’ hand, Leon’s palm sweats. He stares at Luis, as if trying to find the answer he craves in the cavity of Luis’ mind.
Luis isn’t stupid. In Spain, he’d known it was futile to hope that whatever he felt for Leon was reciprocated. Leon always had far more reason to hate Luis than to love him. Perhaps, he had been a little stupid then. To feel something so deeply for someone barely known.
But then there was Raccoon City. Even if it was hard to feel worthy of Leon’s love; Luis couldn’t ignore something so obvious.
Leon’s confession shouldn’t surprise him. It still does.
Luis’ inhale catches in his throat. The heat in his chest rises to his face. His heart beats louder now, thrumming to the low grumble of Leon’s voice, and how he pronounces the word love. Embarrassing, that the only thought Luis seems capable of is that his love for Leon is shared.
“You love me.” Luis’ smile has never been so easily found.
Leon nods into his collar, face burning with a heat that could make the fabric singe. “Don’t act like you didn’t already know. Ashley said I was obvious.”
It’s so unlike Leon’s usual demeanour that Luis has to stifle a laugh. “I had my suspicions. It would be a little strange if you didn’t, especially after promising me a kiss.” He puckers his lips.
“And people call me embarrassing,” Leon huffs, but he can barely speak against his messy smile. “Of course that’s what you remember.”
“I remember really important things. My grandfather’s recipes,” Luis holds up his fingers, marking them down as he lists things off, ‘the story of Don Quixote. And, Leon’s promise to be a good kisser, as well as how he’ll let me tell everyone if he’s not.”
“Okay, woah, I definitely didn’t say that.”
“You definitely did.” Luis grins at Leon’s furrowed pout. Theatrically, he rubs his temples. “Wait, some more is coming back to me. Woah, Leon, you promised to do some freaky stuff. Gunplay? For someone of your age?”
Suddenly, Leon surges forward, a playful smile teasing his features. Luis shrieks.
“Mierda, the tubes-” He starts, but his words die against Leon’s lips. Whatever Leon’s doing definitely doesn’t follow any hospital protocol, but Luis can’t find it in himself to care. Not when every one of his senses is committed to feeling the warmth of Leon’s mouth working against his own. His lips are rough, dried by lingering fear. Luis doesn’t doubt that his own lips feel much the same. It’s not perfect; it’s all he’s ever wanted.
With a sigh, he lets his eyes fall shut. Leon raises his palm to Luis’ jaw, stroking his thumb down the bone with a gentleness that sends a shiver down Luis’ spine. In kind, Luis brings his hands up to Leon’s neck. There’s a strange comfort he finds as he traces the scar left by Leon’s infection. The sign of their survival.
Leon hums low into Luis’ mouth as he sucks on his lips. Against the wetness and shallow breaths, Luis can barely hear the satisfied beeping of his heart. When Leon tilts his head to further deepen the kiss, his stubble tickles along Luis cheek. A giggle escapes Luis’ throat. It makes him feel like a teenager again, exploring things he was told he shouldn’t be looking for. When Leon smiles against his lips, Luis knows he’s found it. He’s glad he never listened.
As Luis’ breaths begin to pan out, Leon takes it as a sign to leave Luis’ lips with a faint peck and a shaking exhale. As much as Luis wishes they could do more, he knows his body wouldn’t be able to handle what he craves for right now. The hospital probably wouldn’t appreciate it, either. Leon might’ve not mentioned doing anything weird, but Luis had some ideas.
What matters most right now is the sight of Leon before him: breath heavy, face slightly flushed, lips a similar pinkish hue. Luis wishes he had a way to capture it forever. He’ll just have to trust his memory, despite its previous failings. Though, he’s sure Leon would be more than happy to recreate it, when Luis is out of the ugly hospital gown and without a tracked heartbeat.
Luis’ smile hurts his face. “I’d give it an 8/10. You could’ve lasted longer, Leon.”
“You serious, Luis? What would I have said if the nurses found you passed out? Or if I’d actually dislodged anything? “I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t keep it in my pants?”
Luis opens his mouth. But before he can be a smartass, the door swings open with a sharp thud. Through it, Ashley tumbles; hair longer than Luis’ remembers, skin pale, and eyes deepened by dull bags.
Yet, when she notices Luis, she loosens with a relieved smile. She doesn’t give Leon or Luis a chance to speak.
“One of the nurses said I should go to check on you, and I swear the last time I ran this fast was back in Spain,” she rambles. “I guess what she really meant was that you were awake! But then it makes me wonder why she didn’t just say that-”
Ashley stops. Luis suffers through the most awkward silence of his life as she squints at him, then takes in the state of Leon. With dawning horror, she covers her eyes. “Oh my god.”
Having to witness Ashley realise what she almost interrupted could’ve been worse, if Leon’s reaction to it wasn’t so endearing. He sniffs, then coughs, looking anywhere but Ashley and her exaggerated shame. His face is so red Luis could use it to signal for help. Like they just got caught getting handsy in a closet, not exchanging a too brief, overdue kiss.
Luis cackles. Leon glares at him. It’s not at all intimidating.
“Stop laughing, Luis.”
Luis doesn’t stop. “If only you could see your face.”
Ashley nods. She’s moved her hand to cover her mouth, though it doesn’t hide the glee creased beside her eyes. “The last time I saw you like this… it must’ve been when Luis called us in the castle. What did he say? Come to my rescue, prince charming?”
Raising an eyebrow, Luis nudges Leon. “Oh, really?”
“Ashley,” Leon hisses. There’s no real anger. Still, Ashley shuffles further behind the doorframe with a smirk.
“Oops?” Then, she addresses Luis, and her voice mellows. “I’m so glad. I missed you, Luis.”
Luis blinks away the stinging in his eyes. Ashley was always the sorest spot in his mass of guilt; a girl whose only crime was that her father was an important man. But those traumas didn’t sharpen her to a scathing point. She’s not been dulled to nothing. When she smiles at Luis, her eyes soften in the same way he remembers.
He doesn’t even care how choked up he sounds when he replies, “I missed you too, senorita.”
“And I missed being called that,” Ashley giggles. “I’m also really happy for you both, but if I ever almost walk in on you again, you both owe me some compensation. ‘Kay?”
Sheepish, Luis laughs. “Got it, senorita. We won’t compromise your innocence.”
Ashley rolls her eyes. “You still almost did, so I’m at least cashing in a hangout the moment you’re discharged and are allowed to drink more than just water. I wanna know all about how sappy Leon can be.”
“Your wish is my command.” Luis winks at Ashley.
Running a hand over his face, Leon groans.
“Is this what I’m going to have to deal with now?”
In tune, Luis and Ashley both sing yes. Leon’s disdain deepens. Yet Luis knows that he doesn’t mind at all. He sees it in the slight shimmer in Leon’s eyes; the light curving of his mouth, and his struggle to bite it down.
It might be a problem, that Luis can’t even glance at Leon without feeling the need to stare, so he can notice the little things that he once thought he shouldn’t.
Ashley takes the softened moment as her cue. With a quiet comment about needing to help Grace finish up some reports, she guides the door to a close. Luis listens to the soft clicking of her heels until they fade, and leave them behind a gentle silence.
There are only a few moments like this that Luis remembers - when the world stills its spin, and takes a breath. Evenings with his grandfather, his body warmed by a meal and candlelight, when he’d drift off to his grandfather’s worn voice reading him Don Quixote. Nights with Ada, a little after his rescue, where he’d research under a buzzing lamp, because that’s all he could do. They wouldn’t talk. But as the sun rose in the morning, she’d leave a light touch on his shoulder, and pain meds on his desk.
And now this; lying in a hospital bed, the wind whispering a confession into the curtains as he stares into a blue sky framed by dark lashes, not windows. Pain soothed not just by medication, but by Leon’s warm hand around his. When he shifts forward, he doesn’t have to worry that Leon might not meet him halfway. He doesn’t have to imagine what his lips feel like anymore.
Luis never thought he could have so much waiting for him.