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The house is quiet when he makes it through the door. Leon lets out a heavy sigh of relief as it closes behind him, the soft click of the lock the only sound apart from the buzzing of the kitchen appliances and the ticking of the clock in the living room. His steps are heavy but he tries to make them silent all the same – the last thing he wants is to wake you.
One by one, his weapons are withdrawn and stashed carefully in the safe he keeps hidden behind the ugly painting you insisted on buying from that yard sale a few years ago. They're scuffed and grimy as hell but he'll clean them later. Next comes the body armour, patched up over and over again as more and more monsters came at him throughout his journey in Racoon City, discarded in the trash since he has no interest in reusing it any time soon. His various holsters and straps he leaves in a pile outside the laundry room, in no mood to actually go inside and store them properly, and he casts a quick glance at the bathroom as he hobbles his way towards the bedroom but doesn't stop – he stinks and he's dirty as all hell but first, he has to see you. Everything else can wait.
He finds you exactly where he expected you: sprawled in your shared bed, covers tangled between your legs, drooling on the pillow. His pillow. Leon smiles slowly but brightly, something tight and warm squeezing his heart at the sight. He approaches the bed slowly, feet dragging with exhaustion, and stops at the edge of the frame so he can watch you. Take you in.
He doesn't want to wake you. He's disgusting and so tired he's surprised he hasn't collapsed in an unconscious heap on the floor already, he's in no state to hold a conversation right now. But he can't help himself – the need to touch you, feel your warm skin beneath his fingers, to assure himself that he got out and he's home, right here with you where you are safe is much greater than his desire to let you sleep undisturbed. So he risks it.
Slowly, Leon's left hand closes the gap between himself and your face (or at least the half that isn't buried in his pillow) and the wedding band on his ring finger glints in the moonlight slithering through a gap in the curtains briefly before the backs of his fingers make contact with your cheek. He runs them across your skin gently, the touch featherlight, and another sigh escapes his weary body at the tangible proof of your well-being.
Unfortunately, the touch also seems to wake you.
Like a reanimated corpse, you gasp awake and twist violently to face the perceived threat – none other than your poor, tired husband – breathing heavily and looking owlishly at him in the dark.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Leon greets in a raspy voice, his tongue coming out to wet his dry, cracked lips briefly before they stretch into a smile that comes without his input. “It's me, calm down.”
A shuddering breath escapes you before you blink slowly at him, sleepy brain trying to recalibrate as adrenaline keeps coursing through your brain. It takes a few more seconds for your conscious mind to catch up to his words but when it does, you sit upright in bed with a gasp.
“Leon?! Oh my God, you're back. Oh, thank God!”
You launch yourself at him before he can warn you not to on account of the grime you'll transfer to your clothes (Alpha team offered – insisted – to drop him off at a medical facility to get checked out and cleaned up a little before going home, at the very least, but Leon had a spouse and a home to get back to and had no time for stupid shit like that). He catches you effortlessly regardless and clutches your body to his own like it's his lifeline, the most precious thing he's ever held or will ever get to hold in his entire life. You laugh breathlessly against his neck, relief and happiness at having him back home already, but Leon's traitorous body has other ideas as tears pool in his eyes and start spilling down his cheeks before he even realises what's going on.
“...Leon?” you ask, concerned, as his body begins to shake with silent sobs and your sleep shirt gets soaked within seconds.
Leon shakes his head. The words are stuck in his throat and he doesn't think he has the energy to push them out.
“Okay… Okay, baby. That's fine. Let it out,” you whisper, heartbroken for his pain, and try to soothe him as best you can by running your fingers through his dirty hair, matted in places by blood and viscera, and rocking him gently on the cold floor of your bedroom.
When he feels steady enough not to break apart at the seams as soon as he lets go of you, Leon disentangles himself from you slightly, just enough so he can look you in the eyes. His eyes are red-rimmed and clearly wet, his face streaked with blood, dirt, and God knows what else, but he's never looked more beautiful to you. You raise a hand to his cheek and stroke your thumb gently under his right eye, smoothing out the wrinkles age has carved into the skin there, and smile at him with shiny eyes of your own.
“Hey there, handsome,” you whisper.
A wet laugh escapes Leon as he takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips to kiss softly.
“Hello, beautiful,” he returns just as quietly.
Silence reigns as you take each other in, but it's the silence of love and a deep understanding only people who are as close to soulmates as humanly possible can dwell in comfortably. The slight tremors in his limbs and the tightness around his eyes tells you all you need to know – tonight is not for talking.
“Come on, let's get you cleaned up, baby.”
With great effort, you manage to get Leon to let go of you for long enough to climb to your feet. He takes the hand you offer him and follows you upright and then to the bathroom he neglected earlier. Once inside, with the lights turned on, you take him in properly for the first time tonight. Another gasp escapes you against your will – he looks battered and bruised and like he crawled through the depths of hell itself.
But he's alive, you remind yourself. He's right here with you, where he belongs.
The thought only helps lessen your worry a little bit.
“I'm fine,” Leon reassures, likely lying, when he inevitably clocks your concern, and you huff in exasperation but don't push. Arguing with him right now is pointless.
“Sit down before you collapse,” you order instead, pointing to the lowered toilet lid. It's a mark of his exhaustion that he doesn't argue and simply does as he's told.
You turn the shower head on then leave the bathroom briefly to retrieve a fresh towel for Leon and some pajamas while the water warms. Leon is struggling to push his pants past his knees when you return, the shirt already discarded in a heap at his feet, and you tut at him before placing the fresh clothes on top of the hamper and hurrying to his side. He accepts your help with a rueful grin and soon your husband is climbing slowly into the shower with your steady hand keeping him upright.
“I can do it,” Leon protests when you pick up the shampoo bottle and squeeze a healthy dollop in your hand.
“I know,” you shoot back while evading his halfhearted attempts at stopping you. “But I wanna wash you. Just… let me do this, baby. Please?”
Leon lets out a sigh but his shoulders slump in what he convinces himself is defeat but in reality is relief. He won't admit it out loud, but he's craving comfort right now. He needs to be taken care of, just a little.
You give him a sweet smile and he ducks his head obediently to give you plenty of unrestricted access to his hair. With a light hum, you start washing.
It's a bit of a workout, trying to clean his hair and untangle all the weird things stuck in it, but it's not all that unfamiliar to you either. Eventually, before your hands can get too tired, the silky strands are back to being soft and smooth like satin between your fingers and you smile in satisfaction while you card conditioner through those locks you love so much. While you leave it to set in, you grab the loofah next and douse it in body wash, then begin the process of lovingly cleaning the rest of Leon's body.
Your husband lets out soft sighs and groans as you shift him around as needed, gently but firmly running the loofah over his skin, lifting his arms and caressing the bruised skin that is revealed to you after the dirt gets scrubbed away.
“Lots of injuries,” you remark, biting your lower lip in worry as you examine the various cuts and bruises littering his body. Some of them are already closed, which multiplies your worry because what if they'll get infected? while others open anew, sluggishly weeping as you try to clean them without aggravating them too badly.
“I'm okay, I promise,” Leon reiterates with a wince. “Actually, I'm better than I've felt in a long time.”
And it's then, as those words reach you and register in your still tired brain, that you take stock of his body with fresh eyes and realise something vital: his infection is gone. Eyes wide, hands trembling, you rove both over his skin, checking his neck, his chest, bringing his hands up to your face – all of it, unblemished, healed, free of rot. You lift your disbelieving eyes up to his own baby blues and find teary eyed confirmation in them.
“It's gone, sweetheart. I'm really okay.”
“Oh, Leon,” you sob, tears of joy and relief and a happiness so profound it cannot be put into words, and wrap your arms around him, uncaring of getting the rest of your clothes wet on top of the grime and blood already clinging to the fabric. Clothes can be washed or replaced – Leon needs to be in your arms right this second and not a moment later. “I love you! I love you, I love you, I love you. Fuck, baby…”
“I know. I know, honey. It's okay,” Leon soothes, his own voice breaking under a new wave of tears, and then you're both crying in the shower, one naked, the other soaked, as you cling to each other and try to convince yourselves that the other is safe and whole.
You only pull away to kiss him, the first one you’ve given him since he came home, and the taste of him against your lips is comforting and sweet and addicting. You want to spend the rest of your days kissing him, can never get enough of it, but somehow you find the strength to rinse his hair out and his body until the water runs clear, then dry him off and put him in fresh night clothes. Your own pajamas get swapped for a new pair, then the two of you hustle back to bed.
Leon lets himself be manhandled until he's tucked cozily under the blanket on his side of the bed. You run around some more, fetching water for his bedside table, making him swallow an antibiotic you keep stocked just in case and an over the counter painkiller, then, once satisfied, slip under the sheets and pull him close to your body. Like a heat seeking missile, Leon's head finds its way to your chest and his arms wrap around your stomach, and he sighs heavily in your warm, clothed torso.
You sink into the pillows with your own sigh. Like a beacon, your hands drift towards his head like clockwork as you start combing through his wet, soft hair. You cradle him to your chest like he's the most important thing in the world to you and like you'd fight tooth and nail to defend him if anyone tried to take him away from you, now or ever. Leon sinks into you, melting under your gentle, loving touch, and you are helpless to resist the desire to lean down and kiss the crown of his head.
“Welcome home, baby. I missed you.”
Leon tightens his hold around your middle. You feel a shaky kiss being pressed against your stomach.
“Missed you too,” he croaks, voice breaking on a yawn, before he falls silent once more.
His body gets heavier with every minute that passes, the exhaustion of God knows how many sleepless hours or days making itself known, and you happily let him succumb to it as your own eyelids get heavier with sleep once more. You clearly need to talk – you want to know what happened on his mission, how his infection came to be cured, why he came straight home to you in such a state, what happened to make him break down in tears like that – but all of it can wait. All you need right now is each other and this warm bed beneath you. Everything else will come later.
Leon falls asleep cradled in your arms and against all odds, he sleeps through the rest of the night without waking in a dazed, shaken stupor the way he usually does after tough missions. You stay wrapped around him like a guard dog the entire time, protecting him in sleep the way he protects everybody else during the day. You're both okay and that is more than enough.