Chapter Text
1998
If someone had told him that on his first day of work he’d have to run for his life countless times, dodging monsters from the deepest pits of hell trying to turn him into an appetizer, he would have laughed in their face and said: "Man, what are you smoking? Mind sharing?" But life had a funny way of mocking him in every possible way.
Perhaps the only good thing he could take from that infernal night was meeting Claire Redfield, a young woman who had only come to the city searching for her missing older brother. He couldn't help but feel an instant connection with her; maybe it was the way she tried to see the positive side of things or her drive to help everyone.
He couldn't help but think her brother was a total jerk for disappearing like that and leaving her in such uncertainty, causing her to end up in that mess. "What a considerate big brother!" he thought mockingly. But deep down—in a corner of his mind he’d never admit out loud—he was grateful to the stranger. If he hadn't vanished, Claire never would have gone to Raccoon City that night, and Leon would have been completely alone against those horrors. He was certain he wouldn't have survived. What would have become of him or Sherry if not for that brave, reckless girl?
So, the day they parted ways was a low blow, but he understood: she still had to find her missing brother. With a promise to meet again, they went their separate ways.
2000
Leon S. Kennedy could be many things, but surprisingly, patient wasn't one of them—especially not when the life of someone precious was at stake. Three years had passed since he last saw Claire, with only a few brief emails exchanged to confirm they were both still breathing. So, when an anonymous email arrived claiming to be from her and pleading for help, he went into full alert.
His frustration and desperation spiked when he was forbidden from going to Rockfort Island to find her. His only coherent thought was to contact the elder Redfield. He blamed the man entirely for Claire's situation: "Three years and not once could he check on his sister... Some brother," Leon muttered. No, Leon did not hold the eldest Redfield in high regard.
Using some contacts he’d managed to secure within the government, he obtained the man's number. He hoped he would at least be able to rescue Claire.
2012–2013
Of all the ways he’d imagined meeting his best friend’s brother, this wasn't one of them—clashing in a standoff to stop him from blowing Ada’s head off. He wouldn't admit that some of the blows he landed were also payback for leaving Claire in the dark for so long.
—"Lower the gun, Chris!" —he growled, keeping his own weapon steady. He caught a glimpse of doubt and uncertainty in the taller man's mismatched eyes.
—"Leon?" —Chris’s voice was hoarse, trying to process why Leon S. Kennedy was there, shielding Ada Wong.
That was Leon’s first real interaction with Chris Redfield. He let a new thought join the ones about the man being an arrogant jerk: he had damn beautiful eyes.
Why had no one told him Chris Redfield had heterochromia? His left eye was a brown as deep as oak wood, while the right was a grayish-blue, so different from Leon’s own aged-blue eyes.
*Not bad...*
2014
Of all the ways he’d imagined seeing those damn beautiful eyes again, this wasn't one of them. Not at this time. Not in this place.
Not when he was at his lowest, when he couldn't look anyone in the face because of the crushing guilt, when he was drowning himself in alcohol to quiet the voices in his head and avoid the memories that had haunted his nights since 1998.
—"What do you want, Redfield?" —His voice came out harsher than intended as he tried to ignore the look of... pity? Disappointment? on the older man's face.
—"No, what do *you* want, Leon?" —Chris growled, blocking him from reaching for his flask.
He ended up wrapped in another fight against some rich guy with a God complex. With a dislocated shoulder, he could finally breathe easy knowing it was over. They were taken to a hotel paid for by the BSAA. He just wanted a shower, but was stopped by the last person he wanted to see.
—"You should get that arm checked out."
Chris Redfield was leaning against the doorframe, blocking the way to the bedroom.
—"I'll be fine," —Leon practically barked, annoyed by the man built like a brick wall who wouldn't let him pass. —"Move, I want to take a shower."
The brunette didn't budge.
—"At least let me look at your shoulder," —he said, ignoring Leon's protest. —"I’m not as good as Rebecca at patching people up, but I’m not bad."
—"What, are you going to sing me a song and kiss the wound to make it heal faster?" —Leon let his typical sarcasm fly, trying to get the big guy to leave him alone.
—"If that's what you want, I will," —Chris replied, ignoring Leon's look of pure shock.
That day, Leon chose two new words to describe Chris Redfield: "stubborn." There was no way to move the man from the door until he agreed to be checked by him or a medic.
—"I know you barely know me, but you can talk to me if you need to." —Leon looked at him as if he’d grown a second head while Redfield tended to the cuts on his back and shoulder. —"You don't have to carry this alone, Leon."
"Kind" was the fifth word added to the list. Or maybe "meddlesome," though he figured that was just a Redfield family trait. Not knowing what to say, Leon simply nodded.
—"I mean it, Kennedy." —His voice was gentle, but carried the weight of an order. —"If you feel like you're drowning, you can call me. You already have my number, after all."
—"I'll hold you to that, Redfield." —A soft hum was the last thing he heard from the older man that night.
Yes, *kind*.
2015
At first, Leon didn't call. Why would he? He didn't need the man's compassion. But apparently, Chris expected as much, because he started calling Leon almost every night. At first, it was just Chris talking and Leon responding in monosyllables. But as time passed, Leon began to open up, responding with more than just a few words.
To their surprise, after a night of nightmares, Leon was the one who called Chris, seeking comfort in anything other than a bottle. He was trying to change, trying to be a better person and avoid being consumed.
It was another surprise when they crossed paths during the Alcatraz mission, seeing familiar faces—both Redfields.
—"I'm glad to see you're doing better." —Chris approached Leon while Claire was at a distance. —"You know, without the whole 'looking like a hobo' thing." —Leon shot him a look that only made Chris chuckle.
—"Glad to see you too, Redfield." —His voice carried a very fake edge of annoyance. —"Didn't know you could get any bigger." —Chris laughed.
—"You know, Leon," —he said, and Leon hummed to show he was listening. —"When we get out of this mission, why don't we go for a coffee or something?"
Leon felt those cold blue eyes on the back of his neck, but he didn't dare turn around yet.
—"Are you asking me out, Redfield? How 'reckless' of you." —He heard Chris snort and clearly caught the "little brat" he whispered under his breath. —"I think I’d like that."
Chris met his gaze with eyes that no longer held the confusion of China or the disappointment of New York, but a sweetness Leon could definitely get used to.