Work Text:
Leon and Chris had already shared plenty of milestones throughout their parenting journey: learning how to lower their voices for lullabies, teaching Rose how to grab things without smacking herself in the head, comforting her over minor scratches, or answering unexpected questions like "Why does cheese have holes in it?"
By the time Rose turned six and started primary school, it seemed like they had finally made it through the hardest stage of raising her when she was just little and barely independent. At least now she could talk, walk, and cause problems she could actually take responsibility for.
So Leon and Chris allowed themselves to relax a little while seeing Rose being all busy with her school tasks.
And that was rather naive of them, because they had counted their chickens before they hatched.
“I need a cake for tomorrow’s school fair, but I have a dance class tonight,” Rose complained, handing Chris a booklet. He put on his glasses — usually worn strictly at home for reading occasions.
The booklet stated: “Sweet Spring Fair, try some delicious masterpieces from our little bakers!”
Chris nearly choked.
“You want me to bake?”
Rose made that serious expression of a twice-divorced forty-year-old woman — far too mature for a child — whenever she desperately wanted something.
“Yes, the rest of the kids are getting something from their parents too.”
Chris put the booklet aside, when he heard Leon’s voice somewhere from the desk side:
“We've got you, sweetheart. Go to your dance classes, Chris and I will take care of it.”
“We will?” Chris asked, but Rose didn’t need another approval.
“Perfect,” she murmured while tugging Chris for a short formal hug, “because Stephanie’s mom is already here to pick me up.”
And she disappeared as quickly as she had appeared.
Chris exhaled. The six-year-old already had a busier social life on a Thursday night than Chris had ever had in his entire life.
He turned to Leon:
“Explain yourself.”
Neither of them was particularly eager to resolve anything tonight. The reason was almost embarrassingly mundane: Leon had been given a shopping list with five items on it. He had bought two — neither of which had actually been on the list.
As a result, Chris had been forced to stop by the store himself despite getting home late from an evening briefing.
It was an insignificant problem. They were both grown men. But, God, the fact that Leon couldn't even pretend to feel guilty about it made Chris irrationally irritated.
So yeah, dealing with something together right now wasn’t the best idea. But for Rose?
They had to.
Leon finally stopped scrolling through Twitter, which he had been doing for the better part of two hours, and looked up at Chris.
“We both cook, what’s the problem about a cake? Should be a piece of cake for us, you know what I mean?” Leon sounded more amused than he should be, probably still hoping for forgiveness.
He didn’t get it.
“Leon,” Chris took off the glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose after dealing with this man for a good few decades, “have you ever baked?”
“No,” Leon shrugged, “I mean, yes? When I was in school myself, like Rose?”
Chris sighed.
“So, basically, those were your parents who did all the job?”
Leon didn’t answer right away like it wasn’t that obvious.
“Yeah, something like that.”
Chris stood up, leaving his cozy and heated spot on the couch.
What a pity.
“I guess, we have no other choice anyway. Rose needs it for tomorrow.”
It was a moment where they both agreed on that.
They stood in the kitchen equipped as if they were preparing for another mission rather than baking a cake: matching aprons labeled "Dad #1" and "Dad #2," ingredients spread across every available surface, a cookbook in Chris's hands, and YouTube recipes on Leon's phone.
The start looked impressive.
The actual thing?
Well…
Leon never stopped teasing Chris about reading the cookbook like a report from BSAA out loud, they already got confused by cup sizes and proper spoon sizes as well. Nuclear physics seemed to have more sense than this now.
“Why are you reading comments there?” Chris asked glancing over his shoulder and spotting Leon reading through them.
Kenendy — or better say Kennedy-Redfield — only shrugged.
“It’s helpful. One woman commented the glazing had ruined her marriage.”
Chris took the phone from Leon’s hand and put it aside.
“Your marriage will be ruined if you don’t stop wasting time. I don’t want to spend the whole night in the kitchen watching you get stuck in the dough.”
Leon raised his eyebrow.
“Why? Sounds pretty kinky to me, and knowing you…”
Chris groaned, elbowing Leon.
“Deal with the eggs, for the god’s sake…” Chris tossed him a bowl, accepting no objections.
Leon muttered something about Chris being “bossy” again, but still reached for eggs anyway. The first one went just perfectly. The second left half the shell in the bowl.
Chris looked at that picture with unhidden amusement:
“What an irony.”
Leon looked at him in question.
“Irony?”
“Thirty years of experience of dealing with bioweapons just to be done by a single chicken.”
Leon snorted.
“Is that your way to show you’re still mad?”
“No, but I am mad.”
Now it was Leon’s turn to groan, but mostly because he was trying to get the scales out of the bowl.
“I’ve already apologized. You're being dramatic. That's what old people do.”
Chris shot him a destroying look.
“And you act like you’re younger than Rose.”
This time, Leon had an ace in his sleeve.
“Should I mention…”
Chris already knew.
“You won’t dare…”
Oh, he would.
“When you decided to show Rose how to ride that mechanic unicorn on the playground, and broke it with your ass after thirty seconds?”
Chris rolled his eyes.
“Are you going to remind me that till the end of my life?”
Leon nodded innocently:
“Oh, absolutely. This is my second job — to play on your nerves.”
“Figured.” Then Chris turned to him with all seriousness: “Then remind me, who got himself a human-size costume of Mickey Mouse, scared Rose and then couldn’t get out of it because a zipper got stuck?”
Leon didn't flinch, though the look he gave Chris revealed exactly how he felt about being reminded of one of the most humiliating moments of his life.
"Enough of this. We'll figure it out later." Leon finally gave up, before it turned into a real fight.
They returned to the measuring cups — the very same ones that had already caused problems earlier.
"We have five different cups at home. Which one do they mean?" Leon now looked in the book in Chris’s hand — all confused.
They both stood there in silence. If tumbleweeds existed in their kitchen, this would have been the perfect moment for one to roll through.
"Isn't there a universal cup size?" Chris suggested.
“Tell it to Mr. Google who gave me several.”
They both sighed in sync, then decided to take their chances and use a medium cup they had. Somehow, the batter still looked acceptable. Vanilla extract and cocoa powder went in next, and Leon let out a whistle when Chris finally started mixing everything together.
“Wow, it starts looking like something real here,” Leon praised.
“Indeed.” Chris admitted while tasting it from the spoon and then handling some to Leon to sample too.
The only part that remained questionable was their kitchen now looking all messy with the flour all over it.
Leon handed Chris the only cake pan they owned. None of them were sure how it had appeared in their kitchen in the first place. The legend said it could be present from Claire for some insignificant holiday. Another theory stated it could be one of multiple of Leon’s impulsive purchases he never remembered about.
Chris felt Leon’s gaze while pouring the form.
“What?”
“What ‘what’?” Leon asked right away.
“You’re staring.”
“As usual.”
Chris rolled his eyes again. He didn’t buy it.
“I know. Why this time?”
Leon kept that still expression that both fascinated and pissed Chris too much.
“You look good when you're focused.”
Chris raised his eyebrow. It didn’t make him feel softer towards Leon despite the argument.
Almost.
He tossed something to Leon, so Kennedy gave him a surprised look. Chris explained:
“The frosting. Let’s make it while the cake is in the oven. Rose wanted French vanilla one.”
“French vanilla it is.” Leon shrugged carelessly suspecting he was about to spend an unreasonable amount of time on it.
That what happened: Chris placed the cake for baking, meanwhile Leon was getting an unexpected arm workout while mixing the frosting. Chris started feeling sympathetic towards him. Mostly.
Kennedy probably regretted signing up for this that easily, but it wasn’t like they had much of a choice: it was either him or Chris breaking another spoon with his overpowered hands.
Chris kept looking at his husband and wondering how they had ended up together. Definitely not out of the pleasures of cooking together.
He was annoying, irresponsible when it came to something more casual outside the battlefield, and his jokes sounded too much dad-like even for Chris while he was older.
At the same time, moments like this — watching Leon try so hard for the sake of a kid who deserved a better childhood than he himself had had — reminded Chris that it was never really about the cake. It was about Leon caring.
And perhaps that was why Chris loved him.
Oh yeah.
That one.
Love.
Chris was ready to forgive him here and now on the kitchen counter, with no protection or extra words — they always understood each other without an effort.
“Now you’re staring,” Leon snapped Chris out of his thoughts, meanwhile still having that stirring fight with the frosting.
Chris approached him from behind — his chest pressed against Leon's back, his chin almost touching Leon’s shoulder.
“You’re doing it wrong. Let me help you.” Chris placed his hand over Leon’s, now guiding, “See? Clockwise.”
Leon huffed, his back pressing closer as he turned his head, almost bumping their noses, so now Chris could see his eyes behind those bangs:
“How do you know that?”
Chris pressed a sudden kiss to his cheek, Leon didn’t move an inch.
“I watch too much of the morning cooking show.”
Leon opened his mouth wanting to say something more but got distracted by glancing at Chris’s lips.
God damn it, Leon wasn't subtle at all.
Chris was supposed to be mad, instead — allowed his guilty husband to melt in his arms.
Their lips were now closer when they got interrupted by the timer.
Right, the cake.
Chris stepped back reluctantly. His eyes still on Leon’s face now flushed a little even after the years of their marriage.
The cake was on the table now. It got baked well, but the shape was a little crooked. They both tried a small bite from the side.
“Surprisingly… tastes good.” Leon hummed chewing.
Chris nodded in an approval.
“Yeah, still ugly though.”
“Maybe, the frosting will help?”
Leon approached the cake as cautiously as he saw a dangerous enemy in front of him. He squeezed the frosting bag, unfortunately, too hard. Frosting shot across the kitchen landing on Chris’s chest. A long silence occurred. Was it a promising one? Promising nothing good? Probably.
“Nice shot.” Chris said sarcastically.
“Wind conditions.” Leon said no less sarcastically himself.
Kennedy sighed now stepping closer to Chris.
“Hey, let me wipe that off—”
But he didn’t finish. Chris took the frosting bag from his hands, now squeezing some on Leon’s cheek. Kennedy didn’t expect that. He grabbed on the bag instantly, Chris never let go too. More frosting shot on their faces.
“Now you’re acting like a kid,” Leon complained still trying to win this battle. Some frosting landed in his hair — a sacred place that should never have been touched.
“You started it.”
“Accidentally.”
“I am not about the frosting.” The words slipped out before Chris could stop them.
Leon groaned.
“Not you still being pissed. C’mon,” even more glazing got squeezed, dropping onto the floor and their aprons. "What do I have to do to earn your forgiveness?"
Chris froze. He never thought of that actually. Their small spark of fight faded as fast as it had started. He stepped back, leaving the frosting bag in Leon’s hand.
“I… cannot be mad at you for long, Lee. Just wanted to paint your sassy face, that’s it.”
Leon didn’t hide his surprise.
“What do I hear? Famous Chris Redfield decided to remember the old days?”
They exchanged smirks. Old days…
They didn’t need to retell that story out loud. It had actually been the time not long after they had been first introduced to each other and been invited to Claire’s place to celebrate her housewarming. Eventually, they had ended up cooking pizza the whole night together. Claire had fallen asleep mid process, and those two had fought in much the same way just staining each other with the ketchup.
Years had passed: they got older, more professional, married each other and still played those silly games like they were young men again — both broken but finding peace in each other.
Chris wiped the frosting from Leon’s cheek.
“Let’s get this done.”
Leon nodded.
“I swear, I’ll never get anything sweet again,” he claimed proudly, looking at the mess they’d made.
“Liar.”
They scooped more frosting from the bowl, and spread it over the cake with professional precision.
Well, it didn’t help that much, of course.
They ended up staring at the cake again: the frosting looked lumpy and uneven, the shape of it was still questionable, and overall — it just looked crooked.
Leon tilted his head.
“It’s… ugly.”
“Absolutely.” Chris sighed.
"Have you tried using the spatula like a shovel?"
Chris tried — eventually making it even worse. They exchanged gazes, a glimpse of hope it could still taste good mattered more.
Rose came home an hour later. The kitchen was still messy, while the two men sat recovering from what was probably emotional rather than physical damage.
They stared at Rose when she entered the kitchen — both held their breath — the moment of truth was just there.
Rose kept a tensing silence for a moment or two, her expression unreadable. Chris was ready to be scolded by a child.
“Amazing!” She finally turned to them with her eyes lit up.
Both men exhaled in relief.
“We know it doesn’t look that good…” Chris started.
But Rose cut him anyway.
“You kidding? The cake is amazing! I tell you what: Stephanie's mom had to buy cookies from the supermarket because she burned hers. And the rest of the parents buy all of those stuff anyway, as I found out today,” she added in the conspiratorial gossiping tone she'd apparently learned in kindergarten.
Leon and Chris exchanged looks.
“We could…”
“...just buy it?”
Rose didn’t notice their frustration, continuing:
“So I'll be one of the few students bringing an actual homemade cake. Eat that, Oliver. Both literally and figuratively.”
Usually, Leon and Chris didn’t encourage Rose rivalry with her classmate (well, Leon did), but this time they both didn’t even try to object, taking it like a small victory.
It was late by the time Rose was sleeping in her room when Leon and Chris finally finished cleaning the kitchen.
“Well, that’s my cardio for the week,” Leon muttered, tossing rubber gloves to the bin.
Chris chuckled, sitting on the kitchen chair and pouring himself another cup of tea.
“You start to repeat yourself, you know?”
“That's what makes me timeless.”
Chris smiled, shaking his head and then tapped on the seat next to himself. Leon was there in a second, leaning to Chris’s side like a tired cat. Honestly, he kind of was.
“Tell me,” Leon finally spoke, “why were you mad that badly?”
There was no irritation in Leon’s question — pure curiosity, maybe something warmer underneath.
Chris couldn’t resist.
“Because you were supposed to buy a printer cartridge,” Chris said casually, then added a valid detail: “it was meant for Rose. She had a school project the next day, it was important.”
Something changed in Leon’s relaxed expression — no sassy attitude left — just the concern.
“Sorry, I…” Leon rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I'm still getting used to normal things. Like being responsible for an actual kid's happiness.”
Chris understood that, like nobody else did. He had never believed the two of them would ever get anything resembling a normal life with the occupation they had.
Then Ethan happened, and even though Rose didn't live with them 24/7, she felt like a part of the family already. Chris placed a hand on the back of Leon’s head, pressing gently. A tender kiss — the one to which Chris put all his emotions and love towards Leon from all the years spent together.
All the quiet moments and storms they shared, all the memories from their first meeting at Claire’s presentation till the minor touch or kiss from nowadays.
Leon's lips were still sweet from the icing he'd been secretly stealing all evening. So familiar, and bringing Chris emotions with every kiss or heated moment. Leon was answering by leaning closer like he was searching for warmth on a cold day. Chris was ready to stay like this forever, realizing that small things like suffering from cooking together could still bring them both some joy.
When they both pulled back — only slightly — it felt just right, no more arguments coming to their minds.
“You know I love you, Lee. Don’t you?”
Leon tugged that special warm smile addressed to Chris only.
“I love you too, Redfield-Kennedy.”
Another short kiss, no less tender, the night was still long when Leon finally said:
“You know…”
“No.”
“We could’ve still bought one.”
Chris threw a dish towel at his head.