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Comfort (noun):
A pleasant feeling of being relaxed and free from pain.
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Sources of comfort had always been lacking during her early life. It was rough back in the day. No comfort for fear, no comfort for tears, none for hunger, and much less for loneliness. She knows how it feels to yearn for something that won’t ever come, something she won’t ever have, and surely doesn’t even deserve. It doesn’t matter now. She outgrew the need to be comforted long ago. Instead, she learned, she grew resilient, focused, and dangerous. It all worked out in the end.
Her life wasn’t one of permanency; she was constantly on the move. She’ll take off to Berlin this Sunday, and by Thursday, she’ll head out to Budapest; then next Sunday — who knows? Hardly ideal if you wanted to have anything resembling a normal life, but she did not want one.
Normalcy made people complacent. Repeat the same places, the same people, and the same activities every day for enough days in a row, and you fall into a routine, into a comfort zone. Comfort zones are dangerous. They dull your senses, they make you stagnant, and in this line of work, sharpness is essential to keep on moving.
For that reason, one had to find alternatives. Erase the need for comfort — or silence it at the very least.
Fear got quelled through cynicism; you cannot fear when you are part of the monsters. Tears held at bay through irony and detachment, nothing and no one is worth it. Hunger perished with luxurious dinners at expensive restaurants; that’s what money was for, and loneliness… Well, she might indulge in company for the night every once in a while.
And indulge is exactly what she had done last night. She only had one rule. No attachments. In and out. It was easy enough to do. At least it was until… him.
Leon.
He had earned a bit of her favor since Raccoon City. When it was him, she cheated at her own game and kept moving the bar. The first time, she told herself it would be the only one. Satisfy the physical desires and leave, in and out, same as ever. The second time, she excused it as mere convenience, an outlet for stress. He was there; she was there; it saved her the effort of finding another companion for the night. The third time, she almost stopped herself as an inner voice assaulted her mind with questions. Why did she keep coming back to him? What was he to her exactly? Was he a comfort? Had she started feeling more profoundly for him? Did he hate her already? And if not, how much longer until he did? She had not begin to answer any of these queries when she felt his hands surrounding her softly. A relief she did not expect to feel engulfed her. This man was a saint who had covered her in his shroud of desire; she would allow herself to feel his devotion, let it consume her like a cleansing fire.
That’s why, from the fourth time onwards, when those treacherous questions started forming inside her brain, she crushed them all by reminding herself that she is Ada Wong; she does as she pleases and never follows the rules.
Despite not being able to explain what kept her coming back. Here she was, two years after their liaison had begun. They never had much time together, only one night, and then she was gone before morning, until the next opportunity to be with him arose.
Although these last two times, they managed to fit dinner into the itinerary. She’d debated herself on it, much preferring to get to the point, but she liked the place he suggested, and they’d both need energy for the following nightly activities. Plus, he’s entertaining; his awkward talk and dumb humor are almost as enjoyable as his body.
With a deep breath, she feels awareness returning, but decides to keep her eyes closed. Their time together is coming to an end. She gets to enjoy these last moments by committing the details to her memory. The soft mattress where they rested, the silky sheets that partially covered their bodies, the sweet soreness at her core, and the soft breathing sounds at her side; she cannot help the lazy smile forming on her face. After filling her nostrils with his scent, she finally opened her eyes to see him.
He’s fast asleep, holding her against his chest. He began doing it after their third meeting. He’s cute like that; she’s never been a cuddler. Being held increases the difficulty to maneuver and slip away without waking him up —perhaps that’s why he does it.
She’d protest; however, he’s actually quite comfortable to sleep on, providing warmth in contrast to the chilly AC in the hotel; plus, she came here to indulge herself, so indulge she will.
Her sleepy gaze lifted to appreciate his resting face. He’s a beautiful man. — The soft light coming from the window gives him an ethereal contour; his blonde locks shine ever brightly with the first rays of the sun.
— Wait.
The sun.
Oh, shit...
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The idea of ever living a comfortable life was erased from Leon Scott Kennedy’s mind way before the Raccoon City events even happened. After finally landing a normal job in there, a rising city near the mountains, he dared to hope — but we all know how that turned out.
He knew what living in comfort looked like; his early years were full of happiness, love, and family, but after his parents’ tragic end… He never felt truly comfortable anywhere anymore. Not in the houses he was sent to afterwards, not with the people he met in school, not in the police academy. He could fit, yet never belong.
After the government got hold of him, the entire concept of comfort was beaten out of his brain through cruel training, unforgiving missions, traveling through disgusting gutters, and rows of sleepless nights. Top that off with the harsh reality that the monsters in this world were far stronger than he was, and the fact that they kept multiplying, to forever erase any hope he had to ever feel at ease.
So he gave up.
It was pointless to pursue or yearn for what he could not have. No quaint house in the suburbs, no friends to invite over for a barbecue, no kids running around the yard… no wife to embrace lovingly every night.
He dealt with it. Perhaps using more whiskey than was necessary, but in this line of work, comforts were scarce and far in between. He’ll take whatever he can whenever it is offered to him.
No house, but an almost empty apartment? — He’ll take it. No friends to invite over, but long-distance relationships with people he met through one of the most tragic biohazard events in this world? — Bring it in. No kids, but an entire bottle of Jack Daniel’s? — Sure… No wife, but… Hunningan at the other side of his comms? — Oh, God… he’s pathetic.
Beyond high school flirtations and romances, a steady partner had never found a place in his life. Not that he didn't want one or that the women he'd tried to get something with had any fault in the matter. No, it was more of the same lingering problem. He never felt comfortable.
After joining STRATCOM and subsequently the DSO, he's tried dates, lots of firsts, a bunch of seconds, a few thirds, and a fourth one only once. Lovely women, so charming, full of life; they'd make a great fit for anyone else. The problem lay in him and his inability to leave behind the dark world he’d so frequently visited since 1998. The horrors that haunted him. No woman he’d dated truly understood how deep the roots of these evils ran, or how to even start dealing with them… well…maybe one did.
Ada.
She was a case apart from the rest. Not only did she make appearances in the same dark world that tormented him, she was also a permanent resident. A person who lurked in the shadows and dealt with monsters, human and infected alike.
She’s treacherous, not really someone you should trust. But to her credit, out of all the monstrous creatures and nefarious people living in the dark, she’s the only one he’s liked from the start.
Because he did like her, admire her even. The confident way she carried herself, her ability to stay cool under the bleakest of circumstances, her intelligence and knowledge about situations he had barely begun to comprehend, her grace in combat that made her seem entirely beyond human, and — why not admit it, her beauty.
One should not be fooled by her beautiful looks or size; Ada Wong is a dangerous woman. Ruthless and efficient. She’s never hesitated to use whatever advantage is at her disposal to complete her mission. Get her hands on goods she had no right to, extract or delete highly sensitive information, dispatch a rogue B.O.W., or whatever one of her many clients of disrepute required of her.
Yes, there is nothing she won’t ever do to get her money…or save his life… Because she does that too. Save him. —quite a lot. Throughout their history together, she has proven, time after time, that despite them being on opposite sides, she does not consider him an enemy. Heck, they’ve worked together more than a few times already. So…perhaps she is not that untrustworthy after all? — Argh… his head is a mess when it comes to her.
That mental turmoil is what led him into this ongoing situationship. For two years, now, he’d been seeing her on and off, being intimate with her. They weren’t dating, no. It was just something that happened every so often.
The first time they did it together, it had started with a kiss. It took him by surprise, even though it wasn't the first time she'd kissed him. His mind kept doubting that Ada could genuinely feel that kind of attraction for him; he couldn’t simply trust her and believe it, as she had fooled him once already. This time, however, she kept going, and the more she insisted, the more he surrendered to the comfort and simply took what she was offering. It was just sex with no strings attached, no better than a one-night stand with a stranger, and yet, when he didn’t find her in bed the next morning, he couldn’t help the twinge of disappointment.
The second time was in Eastern Slav. He tried to be angry with her, but he was weary. Things had gone to shit on that mission, and this time it had nothing to do with her. Her willingness was the promise of relief to his wounded soul, which was just too tempting to resist. She left again, and he tried not to care.
Before the third time, he had promised himself he wouldn’t fall for it if he ever saw her again. Repeated to himself that she had just used him, and she would never hold any true feelings for him. He should close the door and never let her enter his life again. But this time she just appeared in front of him with no warning, and they both stood there, unable to speak, holding each other’s gaze.
It happened quickly; a flash of emotion escaped her. Her eyes looked at him with a soft vulnerability before she could veil them again. In his heart, he realized she was as scared to come closer as he was to let her in. Any anger, disappointment, or resentment evaporated in an instant. His feet moved on their own to bring him closer. He cradled her in his arms, and as he felt how quickly her heart was beating against his chest, he knew he would never want to stop holding her. Engulfed inside her veil of lust, she had revealed to him as an angel, a fallen one maybe, but no less divine.
That morning, he found comfort in the fact that, even if she didn't feel anything deep for him, she had come back.
So when their fourth encounter came, he truly felt happy to see her. Even though her pattern of leaving after every encounter suggested she had no desire to see more of him beyond their intimate moments, he tried his luck at casually suggesting dinner. Against all odds, she agreed. — He got all nervous and ended up doing most of the talking. He thought she’d be bothered, but at least she chuckled whenever he attempted to say something witty…at least he got her company for a bit longer…
Which finally brings him to last night’s events. After a culturally enriching Eurotour, he was spending his last days of vacation in Paris; as he strolled through the streets, admiring the city lights under the moon, his eyes were drawn to her walking opposite him. She looked different, relaxed; she was not wearing her signature red clothes, but still wore a bright crimson on her lips. They gave each other a sassy greeting, and he tried his luck again at having her for dinner; they were in Paris after all. It was the perfect setting for a non-romantic dinner between intimate strangers in a not-enemies relationship.
It was such a delight to see her with no mission or work involved; they wined and dined, then headed back to his hotel. He doesn't think he's ever felt more at ease. Not for a long time.
…But now the night is passing. Their time together has come to an end, and when he wakes up, she’ll be long gone. Who knows how long it’ll be until they see each other again? For now, he’ll do what he does best and take whatever last shreds of comfort he can get by embracing her… just a few more minutes.
— Wait.
What’s that rustling?
Ah, Fuck!
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Comfort (verb):
To make someone feel better when they are sad or worried.
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He jolted awake as he was pushed almost out of the bed. Startled, he reached under the pillow to find…absolutely nothing there. — Where’s his gun?
Still in a daze, he turned to the bedside table to open the drawer. — Empty as well? Oh, right, he’s in a hotel. Still, he can feel his fight-or-flight instinct kicking in, so he locates his boots on the floor, drags himself to them, grabs his combat knife, and takes cover behind the bed. He’s quiet, now fully aware, listening for the grunts of an infected, the quiet slither of a licker, the angry voices of ganados, or any other sign of imminent danger. Nothing came, so he dared to peek above the bed, and when he did, his brows almost shot out of his face; he could not believe what he was seeing.
Ada stood next to the desk on the other side of the room with her back to him, hair tousled and body as naked as he’d seen last night, only this time, instead of a cold silver moonlight, the warm lines of sunlight were coming through the window. He was stunned, about to admire how her rounded forms and soft skin glowed in the sun's rays, when he noticed the tension in her body and movements.
She was searching inside her purse, scattering its contents until she got a peculiar-looking phone out; she tapped on it for a few seconds before she turned it off again. “Ah, damn it...” He heard her mutter quietly, her head hanging on her shoulders. She then walked back towards the bed, looking annoyed as she gathered her discarded clothes from the floor, although she didn’t dress up again. She just stood on the other side of the mattress, arching a brow at him. “Morning, sunshine.” Her tone denoted sarcasm, but her voice still sounded raspy from sleep.
He dared not speak. This was off the script. Something happened.
He couldn’t begin to ponder when she let out a heavy sigh, dropped all her clothes back to the floor, and threw herself on the bed, making it squeak. Her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling. “Can you drop that thing? It’s making me nervous.” She did not look nervous.
He stared at his hand, still holding the knife.
With an equally heavy sigh, he got back up to sit on the edge of the bed, putting aside the knife as he realized he’d gotten the sheets all twisted during his tactical retreat. They were still naked, so he untangled the fabric and sent some of it her way, yet she made no effort to move or cover herself. — Not that he minded; however, he settled for modesty, covering both of their lower halves, then sitting with his back against the headboard.
“Talk about a rude awakening.” He said with a crooked smile.
She closed her eyes and chuckled for a second before pausing. She then furrowed her brow and let out a groan. — Oh, c’mon, that was a good one.
His mind started to race, formulating questions: Was she all right? What had happened? Did something scare her? Was it a nightmare? Could she begin to explain the reason for this unexpected, but definitely not unwelcome, extension of her time around him? But he was always a mess whenever it came to asking her about… anything, really. Nothing was coming out; thus, they remained quiet. She, with her eyes closed, and he, gaping, struggling to formulate a question. “Are you-” She turned her face to him before he could finish his sentence. “My plane takes off in less than 15 minutes.” Her voice and face were absolutely neutral.
He looked at her, head tilted to the side; surprise settled on his features. Of all the things that could have happened, he was not expecting this one. “Ada… did you oversleep?!” As soon as the question left his mouth, her expression changed into dismay, and she hurriedly covered her face with the back of her hand. “Ugh!” she recoiled as if the words had physically hurt her.
That did it; he couldn’t help but laugh earnestly. So Ada Wong was a human after all! It was a fact that he forgot from time to time. And by her reaction, he could tell she had forgotten it as well. He kept laughing as her blush could be seen despite trying to cover it. Then he breathed a bit easier; he had worried something bad or serious was going on. Surely a delayed flight was not something she couldn’t fix.
He grabbed her hand and pulled it away from her face; she didn’t protest, but she didn't look at him. What a picture. Her hair was a mess, her makeup was gone, her lips were slightly pouting, her blush was subsiding, but still present. This had to be the most beautiful he’d ever seen her. It made him smile brightly. “Is it really that bad? Surely you can catch another one.” He asked softly, still amused. “No. It had to be that one.” She looked slightly upset. Perhaps he shouldn’t be enjoying this so much, but seeing the mighty Ada Wong in a moment when she didn’t have the upper hand was so rare in nature that he couldn’t help but make a mental documentary about it.
“C’mon, let’s get you to the airport! I’ll pay for your ticket, how about that?” It was the chivalrous thing to do, since she had overslept after their fun night together.
“It’s not taking off from the airport.” She deadpanned.
Oh.
There was an awkward pause.
To lighten the mood, he attempted to make her laugh. “You could still try to catch it! Get to the roof, shooting that grappling gun of yours as it takes off. Get in with style!”
It didn’t seem to be effective as she turned her face to him in surprise, followed by a squint of her eyes. Was she annoyed? He countered with his goofiest smile.
With a huff, she relaxed back into the pillows and closed her eyes. “I swore to myself I’d never do that again.”
What? No, seriously, what?
“...You are kidding!” Surely was. Right?
He stared at her with a dumbfounded expression. When she only smirked in response, he sighed, amused.
Suppose he were ever to entertain the fantasy of Ada Wong staying the night with him until morning (he had), this scenario would be nowhere close to what he ever envisioned. In his mind, Ada would realize his budding feelings for her and reciprocate them; they’ll wake up embraced, and kiss each other before having some sweet, sweet morning sex, followed by going into the shower together, where they would end up having more sex. Then they’d share coffee and breakfast…which would devolve into them having sex again… somehow the hours never advanced in any of the scenarios he had pictured, and somehow they spent the rest of their lives together. Happily ever after. Unrealistic? Perhaps, but they were his fantasies.
“So, what happens now?” He asked a bit unsure. She had planned to leave, so she obviously had things to do.
“I already sorted it. I’ll take off at the same time tomorrow.” She did not hide the slight frustration in her voice.
“You don’t sound too happy about it.” He noted.
“Meh! I had an itinerary.” She shrugged.
He worried, “Will you get in trouble for this with your clients?” He dared to ask the question, knowing she didn’t like discussing details about her work; he should tread carefully.
He saw the tension in her muscles as she got up to sit in the same position as him. He lost control of his eyes, and they drifted straight into her chest. Daylight suited her. When he realized what he was doing, he immediately went back to look at her face. She was staring at him, too close for comfort, and she had a penetrating gaze that would have pierced his skull if it could; she obviously noticed him staring at something he now felt he never should have.
“Leon… We don’t discuss this anymore. I’m not telling you about my business.”
— You know what? Screw being careful. “Why? I’m not asking for your client’s profile or a debriefing of your itinerary, I just want to know if having a delayed flight is gonna get you in any difficulties?”
“It won’t.” Came her stony response.
“Well, you pushed me out of the bed when you realized you had slept in. Forgive me for thinking you might be scared or anxious regarding this client of yours.” He threw his arms up.
Her brow arched, and she looked at him condescendingly. “I didn’t push you; you threw yourself over the edge.”
She was right, but he’d never admit it. “Regardless, that was quite the strong reaction coming from you.” He retorted with a dismissive gesture.
She looked away and got quiet. Was she blushing?. Now he was confused.
After a few seconds, she finally said, “I take punctuality in my job very seriously.” Her voice was modulated; it sounded gentler than he’d ever heard before.
“Ah, so you panicked at the thought of your professional record taking a dent!” Was his sarcastic retort.
She looked at him with her face devoid of expression. “Forget it.” She moved to the edge of the bed, picked up her discarded clothes, and started dressing up again.
Ah, great. He was an idiot.
Seeing her in the morning was something new. Something he’d wanted for a while now. Against his better judgment, he wished he could spend more time with her, so even if it was not on purpose, he’d take it. Be it fifteen more minutes, a couple more hours, or as long as she wanted. Worry invaded him because now he was sure she’d just leave and disappear from his life forever. How to tell her he wanted her to stay without revealing the true depth of his feelings? How to ask for more without her pushing him away? Whatever this thing between them was, it seemed to be entirely on the casual side; he understood that, accepted it even. But the possibility of anything more than an occasional meeting every few months had never been an option before… Was he really willing to let the opportunity go down the drain due to his own stupidity?
No, he was not.
“Wait.” He took her by the arm before she put on her blouse. He had a flashback to 1998, when she made the same movement to release herself and directed the same irked expression at him. He almost backed out, but he noticed she made no further attempt to leave.
“I’m sorry… I… This is the first time you have stayed the whole night with me, and I would hate it if you left in anger.” He paused to study her expression. She didn’t look pleased, but the fact that she was listening encouraged him to continue. “I’ve never seen you stress about these things before, but I know you take your job more seriously than I do mine… and now I feel like your day had a terrible start because of me, so please… If there’s something, anything I can do to make up for it, just tell me… I’ll do it.”
She kept her eyes on him for who knows how long before she quietly whispered, “No.” It felt like a kick. But she continued, “It wasn’t your fault; I messed up my own schedule. It’s my problem, not yours.”
He let out a sharp breath of relief, but then he avoided her gaze. “Still, I didn’t have to be a jerk about it.”
“No, you didn’t.” He heard amusement in her tone, so he looked up at her. She smirked down at him.
He gave her a bashful smile. “I’m sorry.”
They fell into a comfortable silence as tension relaxed, just looking at each other for a few moments as nothing more needed to be said.
Sadly, that short bliss was rudely interrupted by the loud growling of Leon’s stomach.
“Ah…I guess breakfast is due… do you… um… would you…I mean… If you…” He stuttered, trying to formulate the right way to ask her to accompany him. He didn’t have to, as a low rumbling also came out from Ada’s belly. She exhaled a short breath, and tilting her head, she spoke. “We should go get something to eat.” The fact that she said ‘we’ had him beaming. For the first time in a long time, he felt something akin to belonging.
It moved him. He reached for her, wanting to feel her close and embrace her. She, however, took a step back and looked to the side. “But I would like to freshen up first. I’m taking a shower.” And just like that, she went into the room’s bathroom, closing the door behind her and clicking the lock inside.
So much for his fantasies.
Still, he chuckled, “Story of my life.”
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Comfort (uncountable):
A situation in which you have everything you need in life.