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The ghost of a kiss against your temple wakes you. Eyes fluttering open from sleep, your vision slowly focuses in the dark of your bedroom to see him.
“Leon,” you gasp as you shoot up in bed, the cream duvet pooling in your lap from the sudden movement.
Leon kneels on the floor next to your side of the bed, his navy blue long sleeve rolled up to his elbows, exposing the strong muscles and prominent veins of his forearms. He’s covered in dirt, ash, blood, and probably chunks of brain matter, but he’s alive. Your husband may be a DSO agent, but the speed at which you throw yourself into his arms catches him off guard, and he grabs onto the bedside table with one hand to steady himself while the other wraps securely around your waist.
“You’re home,” you breathe into the warmth of his neck as you squeeze him closer.
Leon rubs your back with a calloused hand, tucking his nose into your hair. “Sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“No, no,” you murmur as you shake your head, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. You cup his face in your hands, the salt and pepper stubble tickling your palms. “Don’t apologize. You being here is better than any sleep I could have.”
He smiles softly at that and reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I was going to clean myself up and sleep on the couch so I wouldn’t disrupt your sleep, but I selfishly needed to see you. I needed to remind myself you’re real.”
Your lips part to respond, but you cut yourself off as your eyes land on the fresh scar on the side of his neck. Leon immediately realizes what you’ve seen and goes to brush it off as nothing, but you don’t give him the chance. You take a firm hold on his chin between your fingers and angle his head to the side to get a better look.
“Oh my god, Leon, what happened?”
“Sweetheart, it’s alright. I promise, I’m okay.”
“Who did this to—”
Your whole world freezes in that moment, time standing eerily still. The sound of every cricket outside and every car driving in the neighbourhood seems to deafen in your ears as you stare at your husband’s neck — at what’s missing.
“L-Leon…” your voice comes out more unsteady than you intend.
Your husband, noticing your hands begin to shake, takes them from his face and brings your knuckles to his lips, kissing them gently. He drops another to the inside of your wrist, right over your pulse as he intertwines your fingers with his.
“It’s gone, baby. We found a cure,” Leon confirms, his voice hardly more than a whisper.
Gone.
He’s cured.
The last time you saw your husband he had a ticking time bomb coursing through his veins as you bid him farewell to the place that changed his life forever. The life of the world.
And now he’s kneeling before you, smelling of death and decay, but he’s alive and he’s home and he’s cured.
The tears start to fall before you even have the chance to try and hold them back.
“I was so scared,” you manage through a violent sob, your voice small and broken. The words have sat dormant on your tongue for too long, so many fears left unsaid, hidden behind a facade of strength for him.
Leon sits back on his heels and pulls you down into his lap to hold you fully. His strong arms wrap around you, cocooning you in his warm embrace as he tucks your head under his chin. He rubs your back as he murmurs, “Oh, baby, I know. I know, my love, I know. It’s all over now, I promise.”
He holds you there, swaying softly in the dark as he soothes your sobs. After sometime, he leans back slightly and gently guides your head out from his chest to look at him. He holds your face between his palms like you’re a sacred, precious artefact, and delicately wipes the tears off your cheeks with his thumbs.
As you sniffle back any remaining tears, Leon murmurs, “Hey there, pretty girl.”
You can’t help but laugh, just a little. Your eyes are swollen from tears, your hair is a mess from the few hours of sleep you got, and you wear one of Leon’s old t-shirts scattered with holes and stains as a nightgown. You’ve had much more attractive days, but the part that warms your heart is knowing that your husband, Leon S. Kennedy, truly thinks you look beautiful right now.
“Hi handsome.”
He hugs you again, dipping his head into your neck to press a kiss to your skin.
Forced to get a whiff of him, you tangle your fingers in the length of his hair, gently scratching at his scalp as you say, “Well since I’m already awake… how about I help you, uh… get cleaned up before we head to bed?”
“Are you saying I smell bad?” he teases, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, Kennedy, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” A small laugh slips past your lips at his mock offended expression. You continue, “Don’t even think about kissing me properly until you brush your teeth.”
A fiendish grin grows on Leon’s face before he chases your lips with his own, making dramatic kissing noises as you squeal and squirm in his arms. He holds you firm in his lap, refusing to let you escape.
“Your old, sore husband comes home to you despite all odds and you won’t even give him a kiss?”
“Leon!”
In one swift motion, Leon raises on his knees, supporting your back with his hands and turns the both of you, pinning you down on the floor of your bedroom.
Leon’s smile shifts subtly from teasing to genuine as he sighs, “I’m so in love with you, Mrs. Kennedy.”
You bite your lower lip in an attempt to contain your grin, but fail miserably. “I’m so in love with you, Mr. Kennedy.”
You slip your wrists out from Leon’s grip, taking his face between your hands and pulling him down to a long, slow kiss.
It doesn’t matter how awful he smells or how you’re also going to need a shower before getting back in bed from all the ash and bloody residue he’s gotten on you. All that matters is being in Leon Kennedy’s arms once again, only this time, with the promise of a long future ahead of you.