Work Text:
The restaurant was calm, but not overly quiet. Soft piano music drifted through the space—something classical, filling the air without overwhelming it. The lighting was warm and dim, reflecting gently off glassware and silver cutlery. It was the kind of place that didn’t scream luxury—it whispered it. Elegant, but not stiff.
Claire noticed immediately.
“Okay, Kennedy…” she said, leaning her elbows on the table and tilting slightly toward him, that familiar spark already in her eyes. “What’s going on?”
Leon raised a brow, playing innocent.
“What do you mean?”
“This.” she gestured subtly around them. “Restaurant, candles, you in a jacket… no blood, no mud, no biological disaster within a one-kilometer radius. Suspicious.”
The corner of his mouth twitched.
“Maybe I just wanted dinner.”
Claire narrowed her eyes.
“You. Just like that. Sure.”
Leon leaned back slightly, at least on the surface. Inside, he was wound tight. Every muscle controlled—as always—but this tension wasn’t familiar.
It wasn’t combat tension.
It was worse.
Because this time… he didn’t know how to react.
“Really.” he added, quieter. “Nothing suspicious.”
Claire studied him for a moment longer, like she was trying to read him. She knew him too well. Saw more than most.
But this time…
she let it go.
“Fine.” she sighed theatrically. “But if a mutant jumps out in a second, I’m leaving.”
“Noted.”
They both smiled.
And for a moment, everything was… normal.
The waiter brought their food. The scent was fresh, light, slightly citrusy. Claire immediately reached for her fork.
“I don’t remember the last time I ate something that didn’t come from a can or wasn’t rushed,” she said, eyeing the plate with quiet appreciation.
Leon watched her for a moment.
This.
This simplicity.
It wasn’t something either of them got often.
“Then I guess we’re making up for it.” he said.
Claire nodded.
“Definitely.”
They started eating.
The conversation flowed easily. Small things. Ordinary things. An old case that didn’t hurt as much anymore. Chris and his ridiculous approach to life. Places they’d seen—and the ones they never really got to see.
Leon listened. Responded. Joked.
But at the same time…
he wasn’t fully there.
His awareness kept drifting back to one thing.
His jacket pocket.
The small box inside.
He could feel it.
Not physically—but mentally.
Like weight.
Like a focal point everything led to.
Claire was in the middle of a story about fixing a motorcycle in the middle of the night that almost ended in an explosion.
“…and you know what the best part was?” she laughed. “I still fixed it.”
Leon shook his head slightly.
“Of course you did.”
“You underestimate me.”
“Quite the opposite.”
Their eyes met.
And there it was.
That feeling.
Quiet. Steady. Real.
Leon’s heart picked up.
Now?
No.
Not yet.
For the next few minutes, he tried to steady himself. Analyzing the situation like always. Safe environment. No threats. Claire relaxed.
Perfect moment.
And yet—
his hand trembled slightly when he reached for his glass.
She noticed.
Of course she did.
“Leon.”
He looked at her.
“Yeah?”
“You’re… weird today.”
He exhaled softly.
“That bad?”
“No.” she shook her head. “Just… I don’t see you like this often.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“Like what?”
She thought for a second.
“Like you don’t have a plan.”
That hit.
Because she was right.
Leon didn’t answer immediately.
“Maybe it’s good not to have one sometimes.” he said finally.
Claire looked at him more closely.
“You’re saying that?”
“Shocking, I know.”
She smiled faintly.
But something in her expression shifted.
More alert.
Leon leaned back slightly.
This was it.
Or never.
His heart pounded.
Not in a fight.
Not in a firefight.
Now.
It was ridiculous.
And painfully real.
His hand moved to his jacket.
His fingers closed around the box.
Small.
But suddenly it felt enormous.
Claire caught the movement.
“Leon…?”
He didn’t answer right away.
He took it out.
Slowly.
Like every movement mattered.
Because it did.
He rested it in his palm.
Opened it.
The red stone caught the candlelight.
Claire froze.
Her eyes widened slightly.
“Leon…” she repeated, softer.
And he—
knelt.
The world slowed.
The restaurant faded.
Everything narrowed to a single point.
Them.
Leon looked at her.
Really looked at her.
“Claire.” he began.
His voice was steady.
Only on the surface.
“I know our lives were never normal…”
A breath.
“And they probably never will be.”
Her hands trembled slightly.
“But if there’s one thing I’m sure of—”
“Leon…”
Something was wrong.
Her voice changed.
Not emotional.
Strained.
He froze.
“Claire?”
Her hand went to her throat.
“I… can’t…”
Her breathing.
Too shallow.
Too fast.
Her face was swelling.
Eyes watering.
“Shrimp…” she forced out.
And it clicked.
Allergy.
Severe.
Immediate.
Leon was on his feet in an instant.
The ring disappeared into his hand.
“Help!” he snapped, voice sharp, commanding. “Allergic reaction!”
People moved immediately.
A waiter rushed over.
“Does she have—”
“She doesn’t!” Leon cut in. “First aid kit? Epipen?”
A second of hesitation.
“Yes—yes, we have it!”
“Get it. Now.”
He didn’t shout.
But no one questioned him.
Leon was back at Claire’s side instantly.
“Hey, look at me.” he said firmly, grabbing her shoulders. “Breathe. With me.”
Her body wasn’t cooperating.
Every breath fractured.
“Claire. Can you hear me?”
A faint nod.
“Good. Stay with me.”
His hand slid to the back of her neck, steadying her.
His eyes were focused.
Cold.
Precise.
Action mode.
But underneath—
fear.
Raw.
Unfiltered.
The waiter came running back.
“I’ve got it!”
Leon took the epipen immediately.
“No hesitation.”
“Claire, this will sting.”
He didn’t know if she heard him.
He said it anyway.
Click.
Injection.
Held.
Counted.
Every second stretched.
Her body tensed.
Breathing—still uneven.
“Come on…” he muttered.
Then—
a deeper inhale.
Not full.
But real.
Leon didn’t let go.
Not for a second.
“I’m here.” he said quieter. “You’re okay.”
Claire’s fingers tightened weakly on his sleeve.
Like she needed to make sure he was real.
“Leon…”
“Yeah?”
“That… was…” she struggled for breath.
“I know.”
Her breathing slowly steadied.
Staff moved around them. Someone called an ambulance.
But for Leon, the world narrowed to her.
“Ambulance is on the way!” someone called.
Leon nodded slightly, never looking away.
“I’m staying.” he said quietly.
She looked at him.
Tired.
Shaken.
But alive.
And then—
“I ruined the moment, didn’t I?” she whispered.
Leon froze.
Then let out a short, disbelieving breath of laughter.
“Claire.”
He shook his head.
“You almost suffocated.”
“A little.”
“A little?!”
Even now, there was a trace of humor.
Relief.
“Next time,” he muttered, “we check the menu properly.”
Her lips twitched.
“Good plan.”
Leon brushed his thumb over her hand.
Unconscious.
Natural.
“I wasn’t finished.” he said suddenly.
Claire blinked.
“What?”
Leon hesitated for half a second.
His heart kicked up again.
Not perfect.
Not ideal.
But—
theirs.
He took the box out again.
“Claire Redfield…” he said softly.
No kneeling this time.
No grand gesture.
Just close.
Real.
“Will you marry me?”
Silence.
Short.
But enough.
Claire smiled faintly.
But genuinely.
“Even if you almost kill me with dinner…?”
“That was a tactical error.”
“Sure.”
A breath.
Then—
“Yes.”
One word.
And it was everything.
Leon closed his eyes for a fraction of a second.
Relief.
Deep.
Clean.
He opened the box.
The red stone caught the light again.
“Fits you.” he said quietly.
Claire looked at the ring.
Then at him.
“A little dramatic.”
“Like you.”
She let out a weak laugh.
“Hey.”
“You’re not denying it.”
Carefully, he slid the ring onto her finger.
Perfect.
Like it had always belonged there.
The ambulance siren sounded in the distance.
But for them—
it didn’t matter anymore.
Because despite the chaos, despite everything going wrong—
it was still their moment.
Not perfect.
But real.
And exactly the kind that fit them best.