Work Text:
The ruins of ARK seemed to breathe all around them, as if they were the immense corpse of a beast that had not yet fully accepted its death. There was something about that place —in the shattered stone and twisted metal— that went beyond the recent destruction. It was as if the entire complex refused to fully crumble. Leon breathed slowly amid the dust and debris with Grace sitting beside him. Every muscle in his body ached from hours of exertion, adrenaline, and fatigue that had seeped into his bones.
Although Elpis had eliminated the virus from his body, he hadn’t erased the true cost of everything that had happened. The deep pain lodged in his joints remained, and fatigue weighed on him with a tangible heaviness. Whenever he moved, that strange sensation persisted, as if his body hadn’t quite finished readjusting itself. It wasn’t the first time he’d pushed past his limits —not even the tenth— but there was a difference between surviving through training with sheer willpower and doing so when his body felt strange beneath his skin.
Ever since he was given the antivirus, Leon could feel his pulse with irritating clarity, as if each beat had an internal echo. Sometimes the air seemed too cold, and at other times, unbearably hot. His vision remained sharp, though white shadows gathered at the edges whenever he turned too quickly or held his breath too long. He didn’t mention it. The important thing was that Grace was alive and by his side. But there was something in her that had dimmed, now she was showing a kind of resignation he didn’t like. It was as if she had survived the horror only to realize there was no real way out.
In a way, it was true. Even though it was all over, a pang of painful acceptance tightened his chest. There was no way out; they were trapped far below the surface with no communication, supplies, or safe route back. Leon scanned the oppressive silence and realized there were no brilliant plans or impossible maneuvers left to improvise. They were just two survivors trapped beneath tons of concrete and metal, hoping time wouldn't run out before they ran out of air, strength, or luck.
Leon was so tired, not just physically.
Then Grace’s voice interrupted his troubling thoughts.
"We can’t get out, can we?"
Leon couldn’t bring himself to lie. Maybe they couldn’t. Maybe they were destined to die there. All that was left was to surrender to the inevitable. Still, he wasn’t willing to abandon her.
"I’m not going to leave you. I’ll stay with you." That was all he could say, plain and simple, without any sugarcoating, because he knew they were fucked.
"Then this is the end."
After those words, the lights flickered feebly, sparking around them, leaving them in suspense until they went out completely and plunged the world into darkness.
Leon glanced at her for just a second. The girl was exhausted and pale beneath the grime. Her face was too young for the defeated expression she wore. What irritated him most wasn’t the fear of dying. That was something he’d accepted long ago because of the kind of work he did. What irritated him most was knowing that there were people out there who would keep looking for a sign from him, worried. Sherry, Claire...
Plunged into that cruel moment of tacit surrender, Leon had only one image fixed in his mind.
Thinking about him during a mission was dangerous because it turned professionalism into something personal and made it more painful. Years ago, Leon had learned that it was easier to keep moving forward during the extraction, containment, neutralization, and survival phases of a mission when every objective was neutral than when it took on the specific face of a certain man waiting for news. Even so, he couldn’t help himself. Beneath the exhaustion, protocol, and old discipline that drove him, a stubborn need to return to him persisted.
"Leon"
Grace’s voice brought him back to the present. The young woman said nothing more, looking around in puzzlement. Leon sensed her unease and sharpened his senses. He heard the distant sound of footsteps accompanied by a strange humming from above. A few seconds later, cold, pale spotlights illuminated the area, casting long shadows across the broken concrete. Several rescue ropes appeared before them, and several unrecognizable figures slid down them. For a moment, a sudden wave of panic washed over him. What if this wasn’t over yet?
The man who was closest to them stepped away from the rope and advanced with confident strides. He wore tactical gear and carried a scope. The others swept the area in a fan formation. They didn’t look like enemies, but Leon couldn’t trust them. He stood there stunned for a few seconds, studying the men from a distance and racing through his thoughts to determine if this was a trap. The man in the lead raised his hand firmly, signaling both “halt” and “identification”. He was armed, a detail that Leon did not miss.
"Leon Scott Kennedy?" the man asked, his voice clear even through the helmet.
Leon narrowed his eyes, wary.
"It depends. Who are you?" His voice sounded firm as the man approached them.
"Alpha. Can you hear me, sir?" The man ignored him and didn’t answer. He was talking to someone on a private communicator. Leon was growing increasingly suspicious of the whole situation. "Yes, they're safe. Both of them. Yes, sir."
The man knelt in front of Leon, still not showing his face. His voice sounded a little softer as he continued speaking.
"Mr. Kennedy, I have a message from Captain Redfield."
Upon hearing this, the world seemed to shift beneath his feet. Leon held his gaze. He said nothing; he didn’t need to. The soldier bowed his head as if he knew the sender mattered more than the message.
"He told me to stop acting like an idiot. He said his biometric signal disappeared hours ago and that..." Leon knew it wasn’t going to be good news when the pause was brief. Even without seeing his face, Leon sensed a tinge of embarrassed discomfort in the man’s voice. "If you died before putting the ring back on, he was going to resurrect you just so he could kill you himself."
Grace blinked, taken aback by the level of familiarity implied in those words. Leon barely looked away. He held her gaze, unsure how to respond. The exhaustion was still there, lodged in every bone. Still, a part of him visibly relaxed. Chris. It was an absent voice and yet perfectly present. It was the exact kind of absurd, furious threat that could only come from him when fear was too overwhelming to express in a more elegant way.
"Yes, that sounds like him."
Umber Eyes seemed to decide that was all the reaction he would get, so he pointed toward the clear corridor behind him.
"Clear route to extraction. It's two minutes to the exit point, assuming the building doesn't collapse first. Can you walk?"
The automatic reply was about to slip out on its own. Of course he could; he always could. But the truth was that every fiber of his body had been on autopilot for too long. When he opened his mouth, it took a fraction of a second longer than usual to find his voice.
"Yes."
Grace glanced at him sideways. She didn’t contradict him, which Leon silently appreciated.
As they advanced under the escort of the Hound Wolf squadron, Leon felt the air change—first the temperature, then the density, and finally the smell. He smelled dust, dampness, and burnt metal, as well as a harsh, raw glimpse of the outside world seeping through ever-widening cracks. After so many hours underground, night finally welcomed them, the dark sky stretching over the ruins like something immensely vast. The cold air brushed against his dirt- and sweat-covered face, and for a moment, he had the absurd impression that his body had forgotten how to respond to something as simple as the wind.
The extraction perimeter was a controlled hive of activity, with tactical lights, quiet communications, and personnel moving quickly and efficiently. As soon as they were outside, two squad members guided Grace to a slightly more sheltered area for a quick checkup. She protested out of reflex or pride but conceded when she tried to stand and lost her balance slightly.
"Nothing's broken," she insisted.
"That's what people usually say right before they find out it is," one of the squad's medics replied with professional calm that brooked no argument.
Leon stood still for a few seconds, as if his body needed time to process that he was no longer in immediate danger. He took in the latest events and watched as Grace was tended to. A harsh, crackling sound from his communicator startled him. He stepped back a few meters and listened carefully.
"Leon? Oh, God. Leon, are you okay? You weren’t answering me, and then we lost the signal, and…" His adopted daughter’s voice came to him in a rush, held back only by a thread of self-control. Communication with Sherry seemed to have returned.
Leon let out a sigh of relief.
"I'm fine," he interrupted gently, closing his eyes for a moment as he listened to her breathing on the other end of the line. "I'm alive. A little beat up, but in one piece. Who would’ve thought? The antiviral worked. I feel like new."
There was a brief silence. When Sherry spoke again, her voice was lower.
"I knew you'd make it out, but..." She didn’t finish the sentence, instead letting out a nervous sigh. "Thank goodness. I’m so glad."
Leon looked into the darkness beyond the perimeter, where the ruins of ARK stood out like the remnants of a bad idea too big for the world. He gave a faint smile, exhausted and bearing an old sadness he had learned to accept over time.
"I know. I have a dose for you. You’ll recover soon."
"Thanks, Leon."
It would have been easier if Chris had gotten here sooner.
"And where is he now?" She asked.
This time, the smile actually reached his eyes, albeit faintly.
"No idea. I'll run into him at some point."
When he said it, he sounded like a steadfast and constant presence who was always on alert. It was Chris being Chris, operating beyond his line of sight, moving resources through the shadows, ordering extractions, monitoring routes, and refusing to sit still as long as one of his own was in danger.
Sherry was silent for a moment, as if his response had revealed more than he had actually said.
"Say hi to him for me when you see him."
"I will."
"I'll call you later."
When the call ended, Leon took the device away from his ear, stared at the turned-off communicator for a moment, and then turned to Grace. The young woman seemed more composed now, still somewhat nervous but no longer on the verge of breaking down.
"It's over," Grace said in a low voice, still trembling slightly as if she had difficulty believing her own words.
Leon stared straight ahead for a few seconds before nodding. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.
"Yes," he said hoarsely, worn out by exhaustion.
Grace pressed her lips together and looked away toward the ruins around them as if she feared something else might emerge from the debris.
"Elpis was our last hope."
Leon let out a dry, almost humorless sigh.
"Let's hope Umbrella hasn't left us with any more surprises."
The relief on Grace’s face was short-lived. Something in her expression cracked as she thought about it again.
"But we haven't saved Emily," she murmured. This time, the weight of guilt was reflected in her voice.
Leon turned his head slightly toward her. He was exhausted and battered, at the end of his strength, but his tone was firm.
"I didn't shoot any vital organs," he said. After a brief pause, he added more slowly, "She might still be alive."
Grace looked up suddenly.
"What do you mean?"
Leon held her gaze for a moment, choosing his words carefully.
"I mean, there might still be a chance. Maybe we can save her." He sat up a little, ignoring his body's silent protest.
Grace’s expression changed instantly. The despair etched on her face cracked just enough to reveal something more fragile and luminous. She looked at him with wide eyes and finally gave him a small, hopeful smile.
"Leon..." Grace hesitated, as if she wanted to say more, and Leon let her take her time. "When they mentioned Captain Redfield… were they referring to Chris Redfield? Are you close with him?"
Leon didn’t answer right away, but a wry smile inevitably crept onto his lips.
"It's a long story," he said with a soft warmth in his voice. The small smile remained on his lips. "Maybe someday I'll tell you."
Leon turned around. It had been a very long day, and all he wanted was to go home. He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out the ring.
The metal glinted in the cold perimeter light. It was dusty around the edges and duller than usual, yet unmistakable. Leon held it between his fingers for a second before sliding it back into place. The gesture was small and insignificant to an outside observer, but to Leon, it felt like an internal adjustment, like a piece finally returning to its place. He felt the sensor activate against his skin and thought, with a certain resigned weariness, that it wouldn't be long before Chris received the update.
He would surely be very angry.
"It's about time," Umber Eyes muttered, close enough that Leon could have seen him.
Leon raised an eyebrow, too exhausted to bother pretending not to care.
"What? Do they give you access to my questionable decisions, too?”
"They give us access to the consequences of your questionable decisions," he corrected, mockingly.
This time, Leon let out a brief, low laugh. He was so worn out that it almost sounded broken.
They gave him a quick assessment, and he confirmed with dwindling patience that he was conscious, knew what day it was, knew who the current president was, didn’t plan to collapse immediately —though the idea held a certain appeal—, and would allow a more thorough examination later. Grace was stabilized and transferred for observation. Leon watched her being led away by capable hands and managed to exchange one last glance with her. She lifted her chin slightly in gratitude. Leon nodded. No more words were needed.
By the time one of the Hound Wolf vehicles turned onto the side road home, night had already fallen over the outskirts. Through the window, Leon watched a succession of tree-lined shadows, stretches of reinforced fencing, and blind spots that were strategically non-existent. Chris hadn’t chosen a pretty spot in the conventional sense; he’d chosen one that was safe, discreet, and secluded enough that the silence felt real. Over the years, Leon had come to realize that this felt more necessary to him than any luxury.
He sat in the backseat with his head resting against the headrest and his eyes half-closed. Fortunately, neither member of Hound Wolf started a conversation. He was too tired for any kind of conversation. Each time the car turned, he felt the weight of the day settle deeper into his muscles. His clothes were stiff with dirt, dried blood, and dust. He felt tightness in his neck and a constant twinge in his side. His fatigue was so deep that even thinking about a shower required excessive effort. All he wanted was to get there, take off his boots, put down his gun, stand under hot water, and sleep for twelve hours without dreaming of gunfire, ruined hallways, or creatures born of human arrogance. He didn’t feel like talking. He didn't feel like writing a report or reconstructing in words everything that had happened.
He just wanted to feel, once and for all, that it was finally over.
The vehicle stopped at the final access gate. His face was scanned at the entrance, and the gate swung open without ceremony. Subtle lights came on as they crossed the perimeter. Tundra, who was driving, glanced at him in the rearview mirror.
"Welcome home."
Leon didn’t have the energy to reply. He merely let out an indistinct murmur and waited for the car to come to a complete stop.
The house was dark, except for the warm light in the living room and a lit lamp in the kitchen. The contrast tightened something in his throat. Nothing about that sight should have affected him —it was just a guarded entrance with sensors and a functional structure— and yet, in that moment, it seemed to him to be the closest thing to peace he knew.
When he got out of the car, the night air slightly chilled his damp forehead. Night Howl, Hound Wolf’s co-pilot on this trip, picked up a small tactical bag with Leon's things and accompanied him to the door, saying nothing. Leon had barely raised his hand to knock when the locks were released from the inside.
The door opened. Chris was on the other side, filling the entire frame like a painting.
He was wearing what might call casual clothes—a pair of dark pants and a tight-fitting long-sleeved shirt that hinted at the tension building in his shoulders and chest. They highlighted the wonderful muscles Leon loved so much when Chris hugged him, wrapping him completely around. There was no visible tactical gear, helmet, or weapon within immediate reach. Yet, his entire posture radiated a kind of active energy as if he had been in an operational state for too long. Chris's gaze went straight to Leon, scanning him from head to toe with fierce precision as if searching for possible damage or injuries. Leon felt a little guilty; his husband seemed very worried.
Only after studying him closely did Chris pause at his hand, where the ring had been returned to its place.
"I'm fine," Leon assured the man standing before him, who was about to lock him away for the rest of his life to ensure he never did anything stupid again. Come to think of it, though, it wasn’t such a bad idea.
"I'll decide that," Chris said in a deep voice that unsettled Leon. He felt a guilty pleasure in his chest. "You took off your ring."
The disapproval was evident, but there was something else. Chris’s voice was deep and controlled, but Leon knew him too well to miss what lay beneath: hours without a signal, lost biometrics, an unmonitored location.
Leon leaned harder than intended against the doorframe before stepping inside. He was too tired to feign complete dignity.
"I’m glad to see you, too, honey."
The Hound Wolf member was still there. He set the bag down by the entrance and mumbled a professional goodbye. He simply walked away. Chris waited for the vehicle to drive off before closing the door and reengaging the security locks. Then he looked at Leon again. The hardness in his gaze remained, but something else was beginning to crack at the edges.
"We couldn't track you down," he said, stepping forward and coming so close that Leon could feel the warmth of his body. That slight proximity was enough to remind Leon how much he'd missed being this close to Chris again. "Your signals disappeared from the network for hours, Leon."
"Your squad already told me."
"Because it was fucking stupid."
"Yeah."
The response was swift and unapologetic. It cut Chris off before he could reply. The anger lingered for a moment before giving way to something far more intense. Leon saw with absolute clarity the moment his husband stopped speaking to him as a captain —as a man who had made a poor tactical decision— and started seeing him as the person he had almost lost.
Chris raised a hand, perhaps intending to touch Leon's shoulder or cheek, or simply to verify that he was real. But he didn’t get the chance because Leon took a slow, weary step toward him and rested his forehead against Chris's collarbone with such automatic, intimate confidence that all the remaining tension broke completely.
Chris immediately wrapped both arms around him.
Leon felt grounded and relieved, emotions that had been bottled up for far too long. He felt the steady weight of Chris’s body, the warmth of his hands on his back, and the powerful heartbeat beneath the chest he was leaning against. For the first time since ARK, Leon allowed himself to truly let go. The exhaustion didn’t disappear. On the contrary, it washed over him with even greater force the moment he stopped holding himself up. He closed his eyes. He breathed in Chris’s familiar scent —clean and dry with a faint undertone of lavender soap and tobacco— and realized that he had missed this kind of contact, as he made his way through the ruins: It was not just safety; it was the kind of connection that put the world back in order for him.
"You're here," Chris murmured. All trace of harshness had disappeared from his voice. He pressed a hand against the back of Leon's neck with a gentleness that contrasted with the strength of his fingers. "Damn it, Leon. You’ve had me on edge for hours."
"Mm," Leon hummed, letting himself be swept away by the comforting embrace and wrapped in the security of his arms.
"That doesn't count as an answer."
"It’s the only one I have right now."
Chris pulled his head back to get a better look at him. His eyes traced Leon’s face with such intense attention that it felt like a caress in itself.
"I won't ask for details until you're ready to talk about it," he said at last, as if he could see the exhaustion in his eyes. Leon nodded slightly, silently thanking him. After a few seconds, Chris continued speaking without taking his eyes off Leon. "I want to sit you down, make sure you're not going to drop dead, and make sure you eat something hot before you try to play the invincible hero."
Leon opened his mouth, ready to protest out of habit just to maintain the facade a little longer. Chris knew him all too well.
"Don’t even try."
"I wasn't going to say anything."
"Liar."
The corner of Leon’s mouth twitched slightly.
"Maybe."
Chris slipped an arm around his waist and led him inside, blending authority and tenderness in a way that was so familiar to them both that it needed no explanation. The house was warm and smelled of freshly cooked food. On the side table in the living room, there was a basic first-aid kit, a bottle of water, a painkiller, and a blanket. In the kitchen, Leon caught a glimpse of a pot simmering on the stove as if Chris had kept it ready while waiting for him. The warmth of this intimacy enveloped Leon's chest, and for a moment, he could only surrender to it. He was still unable to fully comprehend how he’d come to have someone like Chris by his side.
"I've made you dinner," Chris said. He helped Leon sit down on the sofa, then crouched in front of him and gently removed one of his boots. "I'm going to run you a bath. Then you can decide if you want to eat first or stop smelling like dust and rubble."
"Now that's an offensive answer."
"Look at yourself."
Leon leaned his head back against the headrest as Chris confidently and steadily removed the second boot. There was a special tenderness in his touch —attentive and gentle— that touched Leon. It felt good to let someone take care of him for once, especially after everything he’d been through.
"Grace is alive," Leon murmured because he knew Chris wanted to hear it from him.
"I know. I got confirmation."
"I've also been in touch with Sherry."
Chris looked up at him, carefully loosening the dirt-stiffened straps of his boots.
"She worried?"
"Yes, very much."
"That's normal."
Leon let out a slow exhale. He could feel the exhaustion clinging to his marrow. Chris stood still for a moment, crouched in front of Leon with one hand on his bare ankle. When he spoke, his voice had dropped even lower.
"I was, too."
The simplicity of the sentence hit Leon harder than he expected. He reached out and rested his hand on Chris’s cheek, he felt the roughness of the stubble against his fingers. Chris tilted his face toward the touch.
"I know," Leon said without looking away. "I'm sorry."
Leon knew it.
He had recognized the concern the moment he saw the deployment of Hound Wolf. In the message transmitted by Umber Eyes. In the contained rage when he opened the door. He saw it in the hot meal waiting for him next to the prepared bath. He saw it in his embrace at the entrance. Chris kept looking at him as if he still needed to confirm every few seconds that he was there, alive.
Alive.
Later, after a shower and dinner, which he barely touched because sleep was weighing on him more than hunger, they ended up lying together on the living room sofa under the soft glow of a lamp. Chris sat down first, then pulled Leon close until he was settled on top of him, against his chest. Chris covered them with his favorite blanket as they watched a classic movie on TV. Leon rested his head on Chris’s chest and felt a strange calm finally settle beneath his skin. Chris stroked Leon's arm with slow, distracted movements, occasionally running his fingers over a sore spot or some sign that Leon was still carrying the weight of everything he’d been through physically.
Outside, the night was motionless behind the security glass. Inside, everything was still except for their breathing.
It took Leon a long time to speak. When he did, his voice was low but honest for the first time in days.
"I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this."
Chris didn’t answer right away. Leon felt his chest expand beneath his cheek, then slowly empty. There was no surprise in the silence, only acknowledgment. The two of them had crossed that boundary too many times, even if they didn’t always voice it.
"Me neither," Chris finally admitted in a sigh.
Leon closed his eyes. For a few seconds, he allowed himself to imagine a different life—not necessarily an easier one, but one with fewer burdens, one with less dependence on encrypted calls, and one with less exposure to facilities, laboratories, biological weapons, state secrets, and impossible rescues. A life where the ring was just a ring. A life where Chris didn’t have to risk his life on every mission or send his squad to rescue him from the hells that the world insisted on creating. A life where Sherry didn't call holding her breath. Where exhaustion hadn't become a second language.
"But we keep going…" Chris murmured softly, his chin brushing against Lion’s hair. "For them. For Sherry. For Claire. For everyone who can still have a normal life because of this job. For the people we love. For those who don't yet know we're protecting them."
Leon opened his eyes and looked beyond the living room at the serene twilight outside. He thought of Grace, alive. Of Sherry on the other end of the line. He thought of Chris’s hands, holding him with a firmness that needed no promises. He thought of everything they had lost and everything they still carried. He thought of their absurd stubbornness in continuing to choose, time and again, to stay and keep fighting.
"For the people we love," he said quietly.
Chris kissed his temple, a tender and intimate gesture that left Leon utterly defenseless and sent a shiver down his spine. Leon lifted his face toward Chris, and their eyes met.
"Yes."
Leon didn't know what else to say. He let himself be enveloped in the warm embrace and wrapped in the soft blanket. He felt the firm weight of Chris’s arm around him and the steady heat of his body gradually melting away the last traces of stiffness clinging to him. In that moment, everything seemed reduced to something much simpler and more precious: Chris. His breath. The reassurance that comes with knowing he'll still be there.
In Chris’s calm and gentle brown eyes lay everything they hadn’t quite finished saying to each other: the fear of losing him, the relief of having him back, and the weary tenderness of someone who had spent hours just holding on long enough to make sure the other person was safe. Leon didn’t know who leaned in first. He only knew that suddenly, the distance between them became minimal in an intimate way. The air between them seemed to fill with something so delicate that Leon was afraid he would break it if he breathed too heavily.
Their lips brushed against each other in a light, tentative caress—just a warm touch that sought to confirm nothing more than their existence after all the dust, blood, exhaustion, and fear. Leon let out a breathless gasp against Chris’s mouth —a small, exhausted exhalation— and felt their breaths intertwine in that tiny space as Chris’s warm skin pressed against his own.
The kiss began sweetly. Chris’s lips rested on Leon's, soft and warm, treating him with reverent care that completely disarmed him. There was a tacit understanding between them, a kind of intimacy that needed no words to know what the other wanted. That night, Leon needed only that: to feel together, to confirm that everything was real and that they could still touch each other without the world crashing down around them.
Chris raised a hand to the back of his neck and gently sank his strong, sure, and steady fingers into his hair. That simple, familiar gesture stirred deep tenderness in Leon, tightening something in his chest. A pleasant shiver ran down his spine. He leaned in closer without resistance, surrendering to the closeness with a need he no longer had the strength to hide. Their lips met again, this time more firmly, with a restrained urgency born of relief. Chris's mouth gently opened over Leon's, allowing Leon to feel the slow, wet brush of his tongue inside. Leon responded with a sigh that dissolved in his throat before it could become a gasp. Chris kissed him back with quiet, intimate hunger, savoring the warmth of his mouth as if it could return every part of Leon's self left behind on the mission.
Being with Chris again, surrounded by that quiet domestic intimacy that warmed him so deeply inside, overwhelmed him more than he’d expected. It wasn’t just the kiss. It was the whole picture: their home, the sofa beneath them, the blanket half-slumped over their legs, the clean scent of Chris mingling with the faint, lingering scents of soap and hot dinner in the house, the weight of Chris's hand on his waist and the other hand tangled in his hair, and the way their sighs mingled as if even the air were easier to share there.
Leon slid a hand down to Chris’s chest, feeling the steady beat beneath the fabric. Something inside him loosened completely as he recognized it. He’d spent too long moving among ruins, dirt, and the constant possibility of not returning. Kissing Chris like this in that moment of comfort suddenly seemed to him the only honest way to remember why he kept doing this job.
When the kiss ended, they rested their foreheads against each other. Their breaths still mingled, slow and warm. Chris caressed the back of Leon's neck with his thumb, an imperceptible movement that sent shivers down Leon's spine. Leon kept his eyes closed for another second, still savoring the warmth of his mouth and the echo of tenderness that coursed through his body with pleasant gentleness. Then, he opened his eyes and found Chris looking at him in a way that always left him defenseless—serious, deep, and filled with something immense and silent that didn't need to be named.
But this time, Chris didn’t keep it to himself.
"I can't lose you, Leon," he said, his voice breaking the silence of the room. It was low and rough, laden with everything he'd tried to hold back until then. Their gazes met, and Leon’s chest tightened as he recognized in those warm, sincere brown eyes everything Chris didn’t always know how to say out loud. "I love you."
Leon’s breath faltered for a moment.
"I'm with you..." he murmured at last, his voice breaking. He was wrapped in a mixture of tenderness, unconditional love, and a fear too deep to disappear entirely. "I love you too, Chris."
Leon gave a small smile and brushed his lips against Chris’s in a gentler, shorter kiss, like a silent promise between them. Then he rested his forehead against Chris’s, breathing the same air and letting that moment of fragile, precious calm carry him away. For once, it was enough.
They stayed like that for a long while, embraced on the sofa. They set aside the weight of the world for just a few hours, feeling the relief of being together once again. For Leon, this was the only kind of peace that mattered. It was enough to catch his breath, gather himself in Chris’s arms, and gather strength to move forward when the world came calling again. Because, in the end, Chris was his home and refuge, the place he returned to time and again before the next mission tore them apart.
That night, safe at home with the ring back in its place and completely surrounded by Chris’s warmth, Leon allowed himself to succumb to exhaustion. Just before falling asleep, clinging to that borrowed calm, he anchored himself to the idea that, for the moment, he was back.
The End