⤷ summary: you surprise your fiance, leon, with a homemade lunch at his office, bringing along your 6 month old daughter with you as a bonus. (2.4k words)
⤷ pairing: leon kennedy x female!reader
⤷ genre: fluff, comfort
⤷ tags: RE4R Leon Kennedy, established relationship (reader is leon’s fiance), girl dad leon, fluff, comfort, a lot of fluff
🚏 masterlist
The bustling streets of Washington move along as the day passes by. People are out on the streets, walking and going about their business. Cars are in a consistent stream on the road, and there’s the occasional road rage or two.
Fortunately for you, the taxi you hailed was a nice man—he kept conversation light and cheerful, talking to you about his kind wife who made him lunch today. He also baby-talked to your little girl, your 6-month old daughter, Iris, who’s in her baby carrier, asleep against your chest.
He tells you how adorable your daughter is, all rosy cheeks and pinkish lips, her dirty blonde hair sitting neatly atop her fragrant head that smelled of baby shampoo and something sweet and uniquely her. She dozes off into her own little peaceful slumber, unaware and oblivious to the world around her. She’s dressed in a soft yellow onesie, and some little socks with frills around the edge.
The taxi stops at the front of the federal agency headquarters office, and you carefully step out after paying the taxi driver with your fare. Supporting your baby’s head, you hold onto the little bag you’re carrying filled with lunch fit for a small family of three. You enter the building and are immediately greeted by people in uniform or corporate attire, holding folders or cups of coffee as they bustle about.
Approaching the front desk, you smile at the woman named Myra. Because you frequently visited Leon in his office before, she’s quite familiar with you, especially now that word spread about you and your gorgeous, adorable baby girl born six months ago—healthy and perfect in every sense of the word, at least for you and Leon.
“Hi, future Mrs. Kennedy,” Myra says with a teasing lilt to her voice. She glances at you, then the baby asleep in the carrier, her smile widening. “And little Kennedy too, huh? What brings you here today?”
Your smile widens as you readjust your baby girl’s position, feeling her stir against your chest, but ultimately going back to sleep. “I thought I’d surprise Leon with lunch,” you say. “Is he available? No meetings?”
Myra purses her lips. “Mmm, I’ll check. I’ll call the floor secretary and let you know in a bit. Why don’t you take a seat first?” she offers, nodding to one of the lobby sofas.
You thank Myra before you pad towards the empty couch, sinking slowly so as not to wake your little girl who’s sound asleep, moving every now and then, but still remaining in her own little bubble of sleep. It truly endears you. Every little twitch and stir, every scrunch of her nose or quiver of her lips—all of it is precious.
It’s not long before Myra approaches you, and there’s a wide grin on her face. “Okay so you’re just in time, Mr. Kennedy just wrapped up a briefing and he’s in his office. I didn’t tell him you’re coming so it’s the perfect surprise.” She tells you before handing you your visitor badge.
“Thank you, Myra,” you reply with a smile as you clip the visitor badge to your blouse. Standing up carefully, you shift your weight to accommodate the mildly heavy bundle of joy in your baby carrier. “I appreciate it. We’ll see you later.”
Myra steps close to touch Iris’s little hands, tracing her closed fist with a delicate finger. “And I’ll see you later, you cutie. Gosh, she’s just so adorable, Y/N! You and Leon made the perfect angel together, I swear!”
You laugh at Myra’s gushing, before you bid her a gentle goodbye and make your way towards the elevators. When you enter, you’re standing next to suits and corporate attires, who glance every now and then at your baby who’s practically a splitting image of your fiance, Leon. You know they know. Almost everyone knows, really. Just one look at Iris, and they know who the father is.
As if they didn’t see you visiting the field office when your belly was still round with your daughter.
You press the number 11, and then you stand back, wrapping one hand around your daughter’s back, supporting her weight through the baby carrier. Each few floors, people either leave or enter the elevator, and once it reaches the eleventh floor, you wait for the doors to open before walking out of it.
Familiar with the floor’s layout, you make a beeline towards Leon’s office down the hall. You greet familiar people, a few of his colleagues too, and then you stop by the door. You place the lunch bag on the ground before knocking, then picking it again before you push the door gently.
Leon’s back is turned towards you while he grabs something from his desk. “... I’m about to go on my lunch break, can you come back later? I’m just going to—”
“Hey love,” you say, announcing your presence as well as your daughter’s, who chooses the right moment to wake up.
Leon turns around immediately, his eyes widening as he takes in the sight of you and Iris standing in his office. “Baby, what—what are you doing here?” He approaches you in quick strides, taking the bag from your hands before leaning in for a kiss with Iris between the two of you.
You kiss him back softly. When he pulls away, you smile at him, taking in the bewilderment and surprise written all over his expression. “I thought we’d surprise you with lunch. I had some free time this morning, and I made your favorite.” You explain.
Leon sets the bag on the small coffee table in front of a loveseat, before he returns to you. “Let me take her,” he says, referring to Iris who’s awake and squirming a bit in the baby carrier. “How was the trip? Was she fussy?”
You shake your head before you carefully undo the straps, all the while Leon hovers in front of you, supporting Iris’s weight as he carries her in his arms, swaying slightly. Iris babbles as Leon takes her, fisting his suit jacket in her tiny hand.
“Hi sweetheart, did you come visit daddy?” Leon murmurs, planting a soft, sweet kiss on the top of Iris’s fragrant head. “Look at you dressed in that pretty little onesie… you’re the prettiest girl in the world. But don’t tell your mommy I said that.” He winks, as if Iris can understand her.
That makes you laugh softly. Shaking your head, you turn around to the coffee table and start preparing the lunch you’ve made for Leon, along with a portion for yourself and mashed avocado and bananas for your little girl. Leon takes on the duty of holding her for now—and you can clearly tell Iris is enjoying being bounced around and cooed on by him.
“What did you do this morning?” Leon asks her softly, searching her cute face. “Did you have tummy time with mommy? Did you eat your favorite mash?”
As if understanding him, Iris babbles, making little coos while Leon stares at her. She squirms in his arms and grasps at his sleeve while she makes her point in little gurgles.
Leon smiles. “Aw you did? I know you enjoy tummy time with mommy… and you had a banana mash this morning? That’s good.” He pecks his daughter’s cheek.
Iris squeals a little at the feel of Leon’s lips tickling her round cheeks. She babbles again, little rosebud lips forming a sweet smile. “Ga! Ga!”
This never fails to warm your heart. The way Leon converses with your daughter even though she can barely comprehend his words yet. But Leon read somewhere in those parenting forums he reads through daily that it’s good for babies’ development, so he makes it a point to talk to Iris daily and encourage her to reply, even just through her little gurgles and babbles.
Once the food is set up all three of you settle on the loveseat in Leon’s office. He doesn’t let go of Iris and keeps her seated on his lap while he reaches for her bib from your bag. He puts it on her with ease, and she’s never looked more adorable.
“I’ll feed her,” Leon tells you with a reassuring smile. He reaches for the little bowl with avocado and banana puree.
“Then I’ll feed you,” you retort playfully, twirling your fork around the pasta noodles in the container, gathering an ample bite for your fiance, lifting the fork to his lips.
He takes the bite with a genuine smile, the corner of his eyes crinkling just a bit. “So good,” he says in between bites. “You make the best pesto ever, baby. I’m a lucky man.”
That makes you smile before you start eating as well, taking a few small bites while your eyes are trained over Leon and Iris. He’s doing little airplane motions with her pink spoon, lifting and twirling it around before bringing it to her lips that happily eat the mash, all the while Leon’s arm is wrapped around her.
Iris starts playing with Leon’s tie, and you’re worried that she’ll make a mess on his lap, but when you see that Leon doesn’t mind, your heart just aches in a good way. You can clearly tell he’s happy that you’ve surprised him today, especially when you brought your daughter along with you. Just the sight of him, all small smiles and gratitude brings your heart an overflowing sense of love and affection.
How have you become so lucky with this man?
You’ve always hoped one day you’ll be with someone who loves you for you, who makes you happy and will never abandon you nor hurt you in any way. Now that Leon’s here, you realize that he made your wishes come true. Not only did he give you a stable, and safe relationship worth fighting for—he gave you the greatest gift of all, and that is your daughter, Iris Kennedy.
You still remember the day you gave birth to her. It’s so vivid in your head, a memory seared together with the first moment you fell in love with Iris. You held her in your arms for the first time with Leon right beside you. She has your nose and lips, but she has Leon’s eyes. Those perfect blues that stared back at you. Those eyes that made your heart melt into nothing.
“Can you hand me a baby wipe, love? Iris has mash all over her face,” Leon says with a soft chuckle, attempting to wipe away the green and yellow particles away from your daughter’s cheek and lips.
It takes you out of your reverie. You immediately grab the baby wipes from your bag, pulling a wipe from it before handing it to Leon. “Here you go, honey. She got it on her clothes too.”
“Yeah, I’ll take care of it,” Leon reassures you, smiling. “She got a little excited eating, didn’t she? I told you she’ll like the avocado mash.”
“She’s partial to it a few days ago.” You shrug, watching your fiance and daughter with a softening gaze. “Maybe she likes it because you’re the one feeding her.”
Leon successfully wipes away the green and yellow from Iris’ face, placing the baby wipe on the table. He lifts her a little, turning her around so they’re facing each other. “Does she now?” He coos. “You like dada that much, sweet pea?”
Iris gurgles as if saying yes.
“See? A total daddy’s girl,” you playfully roll your eyes, but there was no real bite to the gesture. “After spoiling her with so many toys…”
“Hey, those are good for her development.” Leon counters before he laughs a bit. “I looked it up online, plus I have some baby books on the way. We’ll read to her together, love.”
You thought you’ve seen how Leon loves a person when you and him got into a relationship that was built on solid ground. He spoils you, he brings you gifts, takes good care of you, and reassures you all the time. But now that you have your daughter, you realize his capacity to love and care for another human being apart from yourself has increased tenfold.
In fact, you’re more than happy to indulge Leon’s whims of buying baby books, toys, onesies, all that whatnot because it makes him happy to spoil your little girl with the best and nothing but. He makes it his personal mission to make sure Iris doesn’t want for anything ever again, even though she’s barely grown to comprehend the fact.
After finishing your meal together, Leon carries Iris in his arms as she turns drowsy. You’ve made the loveseat your makeshift changing table, making sure she’s all cleaned up before Leon begins rocking her gently.
“Hey, it’s okay, I can take her, we’re about to go home anyway.” You quietly murmur, reaching for Iris.
Leon shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he tells you. “I got her. You just sit back and relax for a bit. I can extend my lunch break anyway, my briefing starts at two.”
The two of you sit down on the loveseat once more, and you just spend a few moments talking, catching up about each other’s day. You would steal kisses every now and then, with Leon gazing at you lovingly while he holds Iris in his arms as if it doesn’t strain him to do such a thing.
“Thank you for surprising me with lunch today,” Leon tells you as he scoots closer, your shoulders brushing. “I know you’re busy, taking care of Iris, and planning our wedding together… but you made time for me today and even brought me food.”
He leans in to smooch your lips gently. “You know, I’m such a lucky man, Y/N. And it’s all because of you, and our Iris. I love you.”
Your chest tightens with an overwhelming feeling of love.
In between wedding planning and taking care of your daughter, you never fail to show him how grateful you are that he’s taking care of all of your needs, as well as Iris’ needs too. This surprise lunch was just one of the many ways you want to show Leon how much you love him, amongst other things.
“I love you,” you murmur back to him, before leaning against his shoulder, feeling a surge of contentment in your being.
It’s all you need, you realize—this is all you need.
Just you and your fiance, and your little girl and the simplicity of a simple love-filled lunch together.
⤷ a/n: so here's a brief interlude in between the requests and fics i'm writing. i hope you found it just as cute as i did 😋 and also, this came from a previous request and i'd like to apologize that it took a while for me to write and post!
anyway, my tag list is currently open if you're interested in being a part of it so you can also stay tuned in to my upcoming works 🫶 currently i'm working on part twos for letting it linger, handyman husband, and taking baby steps, so feel free to check the first parts while you're here!
thank you so much for reading this piece 🤍 i'll be sure to post more soon since i'm almost done with my internship portfolio :) have a wonderful day, wherever you are! 🫶
💭 thinking about waking up next to re9!Leon who’s a little needy ᝰ.ᐟ 18+ it’s gets a little slutty at the end my bad
The bedroom is cool, quiet, save for your soft breaths and the faint chittering of birds outside— it’s peaceful, and Leon, being the first to wake as always, lies there to simply bask in it. He’s pressed right up behind you, one arm tucked under your pillow and the other draped around your waist, his hand tucked under your sleep-shirt because this man lives for skin-on-skin contact.
He’s so in-tune with your body, he could feel you start to wake even before those eyes of yours begin to flutter open, and he takes that as an invitation to snuggle in closer, pressing a smiley-kiss to your shoulder as you begin to stir.
“There she is… sleeping beauty,” He hums affectionately from behind you, his voice all rough with sleep, chest rumbling against your back, dragging you to the land of the living.
“Mfm… s’too early,” your sleepy murmur gets a chuckle from him, the sound muffled into your skin.
“It’s almost twelve pm, baby.”
You whine in disagreement, “But it’s a Sunday and we’ve got nothing to do.”
He shushes you, hand slides from under your shirt to caress the curve of your hip soothingly as his mouth moves across your shoulder carefully in feather-light pecks.
“M’not saying you gotta get up yet, baby. Come on, turn around, let me see you.”
A smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and you shuffle, turning around to look up at him— all sleep soft and warm, the early-afternoon sun catching in your eyes. He reaches his hand out, his fingertips grazing across your face, pushing your tussled hair back so he can get a good, long look at you, and he smiles, rare and private, only for your eyes.
“Morning, gorgeous,” he whispers quietly, leaning in to brush a kiss to the corner of your mouth.
You hum, curling your arms around his broad shoulders to keep him close as he peppers open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your jaw, his nose bumping against your cheek. “Good morning, handsome,” you reply lazily, his stubble tickling your soft skin, purposely rubbing the rough hairs against the side of your face just to hear you laugh.
“Thought you were gonna go to the gym today?” you ask almost teasingly, slipping your fingers through his hair.
He groans into your neck at the reminder, his body melting in your arms, seeking your warmth out like a sunbathing cat, “That was the plan, yeah… then I woke up, and you were all soft and warm, clinging to me nd’I couldn’t leave you like that.”
It’s almost the exact same excuse he had used yesterday, but you weren’t going to complain, not when he’s all over you and pinning you against the soft mattress, bare-chested and spoiling you with kisses.
“Unless you want me to leave, hmm?— scared I’ll let myself go, baby?” He chuckles, running his knuckles along your cheek as your hands run down his chest, fingers catching the coarse hairs that pepper his skin.
“You’re ridiculous. Obviously, I want you here.” You murmur, tilting your head to kiss him properly, deeply, his lips slotting against yours perfectly.
“Oh, obviously, is it? ” he echoes smugly, grinning against your mouth as he pushes your shirt up to your collarbones, “This is better than lifting weights anyway,” he murmurs, kissing down your neck and over the swell of your breasts— your breath catching at the feeling.
“Well, that’s not much of a competition.”
Your fingers run through his hair and he makes a low gravelly noise, leaning into your hands. “You’re right, it’s not even close— god you’re so fucking warm.” He sighs, looking up at you through his lashes with a faint grin, blue eyes glinting—he was definitely scheming.
“Gonna let me love on you a little before we get up, yeah?” He smiles against your sternum, his voice all tender yet rough with want because god you look and feel amazing like this. “Make you come on my tongue first, then fuck you, nice and slow— make breakfast after?”
“Mm, Jesus… Leon…” his name falls from your lips, broken and whiny, desperate, and he coos in response, a hushed ‘I know baby’ before capturing your nipple into his wet mouth— his tongue flicking over the hardened peak as his hand cups your other boob.
He shifts against you, slotting himself snug between your legs. You wrap your thighs around him, a whimper catching in your throat when he grinds his hard-on against your clothed pussy, arching into him for more, wetness already collecting in your panties.
“I’ll handle it… you just relax f’me, baby.” He promises, kissing his way down your tummy whilst his fingers pinch at your nipples— his free hand tugging your panties down.
Lazy Sundays were the closest thing to heaven.
જ⁀➴ Resident Evil Masterlist જ⁀➴ General Masterlist
Summary: Leon takes you to his place after you get an extreme fever at work and over the weekend, he nurses you back to full health. However, there's a consistent underlying problem that takes the form of a golden liquid.
part 5 of this
The nurses said you would be fine if you went home and rested over the weekend, but if it got any worse, immediately to go to the hospital due to the possible risk of it being an infection.
“C’mon, just one foot in front of the other, you’ve got this,” Leon reassured you as he had your arm slung over his shoulder, and his hand firmly steady on your waist. If someone looked from afar without context, it would look like you were a total drunk.
“I’m trying,” you mumbled, your voice whining. Every step you took made the world crash and blur, a sickening pulse in your head.
“You know what,” Leon sighed and bent his knees, one arm scooped the back of your knees and the other scooping up your back, “this is easier.”
You leaned your head against his chest, unable to find the energy to protest to this. His chest was warm and firm, his shirt smelling of laundry detergent. It was hard to imagine him slaughtering infected in his usual violent, apathetic way when he was holding you so gently.
He struggled to open the car door with you in his arms, but he managed to do it anyway. He slid you into the passenger seat and as your head lolled to the side, he clipped you into the seatbelt.
Something made him pause just to look at you for a second, not really to admire but to reflect on his life choices.
You pressed your head against the cold of the window for just some sort of relief, squeezing your eyes shut. In your dizzied state, you watched him walk around to the other side of the car and place himself in the driver’s seat with a huff. He secured himself in and placed his hand on the steering wheel before turning his head in your direction.
“Are you still sure that you don’t want me to take you home?” he asked, looking at your slumped posture, his hair messily out of place. You despised how stressed you were making him.
“Don’t take me home-” your phone rang. Your head hurt too badly to even want to look at the bright screen, but the words ‘Mom’ pierced through your eyes, and you saw the 7 missed calls and the other 10 threatening messages that she sent you.
It was enough to snap you out of your delirium.
Eyes widening, your phone slipped from your hands, and you shook Leon’s arm.
“I forgot about- fuck I forgot about dinner. Leon, you have to take me to my parents’ house,” you pleaded, hoping that you could just miraculously bottle the fever up.
“Are you insane?”
“Leon,” you stared at him with all the determination in the world despite your eyelids slowly sliding downwards and your head swaying a little, “Leon.”
“Yes?”
Your eyes eventually closed and your head fell back onto the headrest.
He tutted, turning the engine on, “You are certainly not going to dinner.”
And that’s how you ended up in your boss’s guest room bed.
You woke up in a sweat, nausea now clambering in your stomach and uncontrollable shivers shooting through your body. A little lost to where you were, your eyes scanned around the room, because the ceiling definitely wasn’t yours.
It smelt familiar, like coffee and leather. A scent that belonged in the office. In Leon’s office.
“Leon?” you mumbled out, pushing yourself upwards with your elbows. You were still in your office clothes from yesterday, but your heels had been slipped off, and a cold cloth was pressed on your forehead. At the end of the bed was clean, fresh clothes.
Slumped in a chair next to your bed was Leon. His face was softer when he slept, holding a youthful look to it as the usual tense knot in his face had loosened. You always wondered what his resting face looked like after seeing the pure adrenaline, predator scowl he had etched into his face.
The room held plain, cream-coloured walls with long windows from the ceiling to the floor that looked over a forest. The curtains cast ripples on the carpet as a window was left open to keep fresh air channelling through the room.
However, as soon as his name slipped from your mouth, he stirred immediately. His eyes shot open and his posture snapped into shape. He was still wearing the same navy suit from yesterday, just a few buttons undone at the top and his hair was dishevelled like he had run his hand through it a hundred times.
“Hey,” he said softly, “take it easy.”
He carefully removed the cloth from your forehead and pressed the back of his hand against your forehead.
“Better than yesterday.”
You weren’t sure if he was talking to himself or you.
“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” you croaked, pushing his hand away and slipping your feet out of the duvet to stand up.
“What are you doing?” he questioned sternly, the crease in his eyebrow deepening.
“Am I not allowed to get up…?” you stared at him, your eyes cringing at the bright light that slipped through the curtains and shone blindingly around Leon’s figure. From your point of view, he looked like an angel.
Sweat still clung to your face, a heat itching at your cheeks.
“You need rest,” his deep voice smoothed the throbbing bumps of your mind.
“I’ve rested.”
“You passed out. There’s a difference. You’re still hot and sick,” he said as he patted the damp cloth on your face, gently moving aside the hair that was stuck to your face.
You flopped back onto the bed, “you suck as a doctor.”
He let out a hum as he pushed a glass of water into your hands, and then two pills in the other.
“Drink,” he demanded, his eyes flicking to his watch and then back at you.
“Still bossy.”
“Funny that, because I’m your boss,” he said it with a small laugh, but then his expression flickered into something with regret.
The words floated awkwardly in the room like they didn’t belong there.
Because they were true, but also weirdly false at the same time.
He is your boss, but the typical boundaries of an employee and their boss had been totally blurred by the two of you.
Bosses didn’t sleep in a ridiculously uncomfortable chair all night and keep their employee in their guest room to look after them.
“What’s the time?” you asked, wiping the water on your lips with your sleeve.
“Four pm.”
“Four?! The presentation- oh my god my parents-,” you shot up out of the bed, feeling your chest twist in that unpleasant way all over again, pain coming in waves of sharp volts.
“Hey-“ he grabbed you before you toppled over.
“No- I forgot about dinner with my parents; I needed to be there- where is my phone?! And head office! I don’t have the presentation I won’t be able to present it-,” your head frantically turned left and right, your wrists still being held by Leon’s hand.
“You were unconscious,” he said monotonously.
“Where’s my phone?”
“You passed out mid-sentence in my car,” he continued in the same, slightly frustrated tone.
“I need to call them.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” he declared.
“Leon,” you head snapped to him, tilting your head a little to give him puppy-eyes.
He sighed, letting go of your wrists, “your phone is right here. On the bedside.”
You picked it up and stared at the phone screen. 10 missed calls. 13 messages. Your eye twitched, a dread taking root in your body.
“I’m done for. She’s going to skin me alive and serve me as a meal for her next dinner!”
“I think that’s slightly excessive.”
“You clearly haven’t met my mother.”
Your phone began to buzz. Your fingers were shaking. For the first time, you felt like you couldn’t deal with anything, which was strange, because you always dealt with everything no matter the condition you were in. Stopping was never allowed.
“I- I can’t do it.”
“Then you don’t. Focus on resting,” he said, holding up the duvet so you could slide back under it. He said it so effortlessly, like resting was just second nature to him. You hesitantly laid your back onto the mattress, letting him fuss over you. “Sherry stopped by and dropped some clean clothes off for you,”
You hummed something unintelligible deliriously as exhaustion crashed over you, the softness of the pillows catalysing this.
He sat in his chair and paused on your face before standing up.
“I’m gonna get some coffee.”
“Leon,” you reached out and grabbed his hand, and his head snapped back to you, your pleading eyes staring back into his icy ones, “don’t leave.”
He stilled, but placed himself back on the seat, watching your face instantly relax as you succumbed to exhaustion, as if it was his presence that let you fall asleep.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbled to himself, rubbing his mouth. But his thumb was absently rubbing gentle circles into your palm.
He tried to imagine the DSO without you, and suddenly all the color was drained from it. Your withdrawal from him, the resignation letter, the collapse in the elevator – it all scared him in ways he didn’t think was possible. This wasn’t him. He was used to dealing with fear on the field but losing you would be a type of fear that wouldn’t let him get out of bed without a struggle.
You looked smaller when you slept. Less guarded, like you were no longer waiting for someone’s criticism. The usual determination that sat in your expression was softened by exhaustion.
You trusted him enough to fall asleep like this. In his house, holding his hand.
He couldn’t mess this up.
When you woke up, the soft glistening glow of the moon swept through the curtains. Leon was sat at the bed, his reading glasses reflecting the glow of the laptop that was on his lap. His suit jacket was draping over the chair; he was only in his button up shirt. His collar hung lazily around his neck and his sleeves were rolled up. Veins on his forearms were dimly lit by the lamp on the desk, and they tensed every few seconds when his eyebrows furrowed deeply.
Your fingers were loosely clinging around his hand, while his other hand was scrolling through emails. He clearly hadn’t moved it since you fell asleep.
“Hi,” you said awkwardly as you pushed yourself up, your hand letting go of his, embarrassed.
“Hi,” he said back, just as awkwardly. “Not to suck but I got an email from Head Office.”
“W-What did it say?” you stuttered, every possible scenario rushing through your head, studying his face for any hint of disappointment.
“That you and I need to come in on Monday to discuss your position at the DSO,” he replied, predicting what you were going to say next, “you’re not getting fired.”
“How do you know?” you said instantly, ready to shoot him with another million questions.
“Because you’re my assistant. I’m not letting it happen,” he shook his head, then shut his laptop and stood up, quickly shutting down any possible idea of you not being in his office. “Would you like me to run you a bath?”
A subtle blush crept onto your cheeks. Was he crazy? Or were you crazy? You had to both be crazy.
You nodded, feeling like the shy assistant that walked into his office for the first time.
He petted your head, then he quickly retracted his hand, regretting what he just did, and disappeared into the ensuite, the sound of water splashing into the tub echoing around the room.
A small exhale left your nose as the corners of your mouth curved upwards, finding his awkwardness slightly endearing.
You began to explore his apartment as he fussed around your bath.
It seemed that his leather jacket collection extended into his home, because they were all neatly hanging up in a dark oak closet by the entrance. There was a brown battered one with a cream-colored fur snugly attached to the collar, a black one with two grey stripes circling the sleeves and another black one with an exaggerated collar that had an even fluffier fur.
It was strange that none of his usual weapons were visible, even though he typically showed them off to you before missions with a toothy grin. But this thought was quickly shut down after you opened a door to a room that had guns displayed on walls from ceiling to floor like paintings. Axes and knives and many other weapons that you couldn’t even name were all hanging there, polished and sparkling. There was gym equipment set up- too many weights on that pole, you thought. You decided it was best to keep that door closed.
He had a very clean alcohol cabinet with fancy bottles, some in languages you couldn’t even begin to read. Most of them were almost empty.
You came across picture frames, photos of him with Sherry and a woman in a red leather jacket. Another photo of him with a different blond woman, he was different here. Blonder, not a hint of a wrinkle or a grey hair. None of the frames matched with the rest of the decorum in his house- these must’ve been gifts.
The silver clock ticked away in the background.
A record player was neatly tucked in the corner, with shelves stacked full of vinyls. Your fingers flicked through all the different albums, ranging from 70s to 90s. There was The Police, Alice In Chains, Nirvana, Violent Femmes, Rage Against The Machine, Screaming Trees and many, many more. You snickered when you found Duran Duran. Rolled your eyes when you found Radiohead.
There was a lace of coldness that draped over the apartment. The pillows weren’t worn, the kitchen looked far too clean, there was no dents in the furniture or stains – nothing that signalled the presence of someone. Everything was in perfect (expensive) condition, apart from the dead plants in the corner.
He was haunting his own apartment.
“Baths ready.” He was dressed out of his office wear, and in grey sweatpants and a loose black t-shirt. Your eyes widened like you had seen him naked. You had never seen anyone wear casual things. When you lived with your parents, they expected nothing less of you. It was either on your best form or don’t be here at all.
“Uh- thanks- thank you,” you stammered, walking past him rapidly so you didn’t have with bear with your awkwardness any longer.
You clicked the door behind you and leant your back against it, pressing a hand to your face.
Your face was warm and you couldn’t tell if it was the fever or something else.
Steam swirled from the bath; he had almost filled it to the brim.
You peeled your office clothes from your body and lowered yourself into the bath and a quiet sigh escaped from your throat.
There was an assortment of soaps that had been placed on the side. Again, they were all in different languages, seemingly different soaps from all the hotels he stayed at on his international missions. It felt weird to look at these, it was all a life he had before he met you, you felt like a stranger despite spending so much time with him.
A heat crawled up your neck as you thought about the way he never let go of your hand and imagining him carrying you into your apartment. You sank lower into the bath. He had seen you at your most disgusting, raw and worst yet he was running you a bath and making you dinner in the kitchen.
You tried your hardest to remember what happened in the elevator.
The rough sensation of his stubble, his hands holding you and his panicked face quickly flooded back, and it was enough to send you into a flustered coma.
You were sat at his kitchen island, on those long stools, with your hair twisted in a towel and wearing the pyjamas that Sherry left, a very nice baby-blue matching set.
“Food.” He placed a plate of pasta in front of you.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to… do all of this for me,” you thanked him, grabbing your fork and refusing eye contact with him.
“Well, I didn’t really have a choice when you passed out in my car. I couldn’t leave you alone like that. You need to stop running yourself into the ground, it doesn’t help anyone.”
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, staring at the pasta in front of you.
“Hey, don’t apologise,” he said softer, his voice deepening, “Your only job right now is to get better.”
Both of you went quiet; the ticking of the clock and your fork clunking against the plate were heard. He then poured himself a drink, whiskey. There was something restrained in the way he poured it though, like this was less than he usually drank.
“So, did I ruin any of your weekend plans?” you broke the silence, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Didn’t have any, luckily for you,” he said, a small laugh laced in his words, leaning against the counter.
“Leon S. Kennedy doesn’t have any weekend plans?”
“You sound surprised,” he crossed his arms.
“Yeah, you know, I’d be thinking you would be saving the world by breakfast or something.”
He huffed, “how did you know?”
“Just had a hunch,” you winked, very badly, at him. Cringing at yourself, your gaze fell down back to your plate.
You felt his burning gaze pierce right through you.
“You’re staring,” you called him out, pushing your pasta around like it personally offended you.
“Just making sure you’re eating,” he muttered, putting his arms up in surrender.
“I am eating.”
“You’re prodding at it as if I fed you worms,” he sighed, pushing your drink towards you. “Drink too.”
The two of you ended up on his couch; Leon demanded you have a blanket spread over your legs.
You sat on one end. He sat on the other.
You were watching this stupid movie; you had hardly even kept up with plot because you kept drifting off to sleep and you didn’t know why but you felt like every time you opened your eyes, Leon had shifted himself closer to you.
You noticed his sleepy state, his half-open eyes reflecting the blare of the television. His hair looked so soft you just wanted to run your fingers along it over and over again until they were numb from the feeling. His fingers held loosely around his glass containing a little amount of that golden liquid.
It wasn’t fair that you collapsed in the elevator. You wanted to take care of him too. Just because he was better at keeping himself together didn’t mean he wasn’t as equally exhausted as you were.
He had been lapping up his whiskey all summer like a dehydrated plant, and it was often he stayed longer hours than you did. Once you caught sight of a long scar across his abdomen when he was getting patched up after a mission that involved many losses. It was hard to fathom how he coped with it all, but the answer was clearly staring right back at you from his glass.
Now you were worried that you added even more stress onto his conscience. He already had to deal with so much and now collapsing on him in the elevator felt selfish and stupid.
“Leon,” you whispered.
“Yes,” he whispered back, his eyes still glued to the screen, but he tilted his body towards you subtly.
“Did I scare you?”
His fingers stopped rubbing his glass.
“A little,” he admitted, not telling you that he would’ve literally torn the whole DSO building down to make sure you were okay.
Your stomach twisted with guilt.
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t have to stay with me all day.”
“Yes I did,” he said firmly, his face finally turning towards you with a small smile. The same reassuring look he gave you when you told him you were nervous on your first day as his assistant.
Silence settled between you again.
Your eyelids felt heavier with every passing second and so did your head as it tipped to the side and then rested against something solid and warm. You stilled. He froze.
Your head was resting against his shoulder.
Heat shot through your face, and you pulled your head away immediately, “Sorry-”
“It’s fine.” He said quickly, extremely quick in fact. You paused. Everything in you craved to rest your head back on him, to feel safe next to him and to know that this actually means something to him.
You always held yourself back from getting the things you wanted because your mind restricted everything you did. You were a coward. The fear of being rejected had pulled you around on strings for so long, you felt childish.
So, you slowly leaned back again with more care. He didn’t move or shift away. His body relaxed slightly under the weight. Neither of you said anything. He only pulled over the blanket for it to cover his legs too.
Eventually, your breathing slowed as your body subconsciously shifted itself closer to him. He glanced down, muttered “Unbelievable.” and turned down the volume of the television before stretching his arm around you.
Sunday morning came quickly, and you were pleasantly woken by the sound of something sizzling. There was a dip in the sofa where Leon was resting, and now you could hear his humming from the kitchen. It felt odd to not immediately open your laptop or start reading through files, but just this once you allowed and embraced the absence of it.
“Morning,” you croaked, rubbing your eyes and placing yourself on one of the stools.
“Morning. Feeling better?” he asked, pushing a glass of water to you and then returning to the eggs that were frying and bubbling in the pan. It annoyed you how the morning seemingly didn’t affect Leon in the same way it affected you.
“Yeah… I do,” you realised that the pounding, stuffy feeling in your mind had disappeared, but wrecked your body in the meantime, because everything ached. He leaned over the island and pressed the back of his hand against your forehead.
“I swear if you do that one more time-” you swatted his hand away.
“You look better.”
“Wow. Thank you, Doctor Kennedy,” you rolled your eyes, “Seems like you’re chef Kennedy too. What’s for breakfast?”
He wanted to say that you had a lot of sass for someone who could hardly form a sentence when they first interacted with him. But he decided to keep his mouth shut. Minus the teasing, he felt strangely proud, and happy even that he made you comfortable enough to laugh and tease him in his own home.
“Eggs on toast,” he then felt the presence of your stare. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
A huge smile was stretching across your face, your eyes reflecting the morning light. His cheeks felt warm.
“It’s funny.”
“How?” he questioned, genuinely confused, shaking his head as if he could shake the blush off his cheeks.
“Well, when I first joined the DSO everyone said you were scary. And now you’re cooking breakfast for me,” you explained, gesturing at him as he held a spatula.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” he muttered, turning back to the eggs with a smirk tugging on his lips.
“You were even humming!”
“Drop it,” he grumbled, buttering your toast.
“Kennedy is cooking and humming for me!”
“Quit it or I’m revoking breakfast privileges,” he threatened as he placed the eggs on top of your toast and sliding the plate over to you. “There’s salt and pepper on the side if you want it.”
You grinned and took a bite.
It was a quiet ride home, you were still in your pyjamas embarrassingly, but Leon lent you his hoodie to ‘help’. The radio blurred into the background as long, towering trees passed you by.
“Tomorrow’s gonna be fun,” you sighed, your hands fiddling on your lap, his sleeves so big only your fingers points through them. Dread felt heavy on your chest already.
He hummed in agreement, “it’ll be fine though.”
Leon always had a great habit of reassuring people even when he wasn’t even sure of the outcome himself.
“What about the possibility of me being fired?”
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
“You’re not getting fired, how many times do I need to say this?”
“But how do you even know that?” you turned to him, your eyes desperately searching for reassurance in his.
“You’re my assistant.”
You huffed, sinking further into your seat.
“Like that’s a good argument.”
“It is to me,” he said, seemingly calm. He smiled a little, proud of his answer.
He stopped outside your house, your sprinklers showering the colorful tulips that sat sweetly in pots.
“Thank you, Leon. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you thanked him, and then paused, your hand hovering over the handle.
You had far too many impulsive thoughts that weekend.
He was looking at you patiently, like if you wanted to stay in his car and do absolutely nothing, he would let you.
You had paused too long to not say something now. But what do you even say? Thank you again?
His head tilted, “You okay?”
“Yeah- I, uhm.”
Maybe you should wave. but people don’t wave inside of cars.
He took care of you all weekend, cooking, running you a bath, just making sure you were okay. And you were just going to thank him and leave?
But you didn’t owe him anything. Not like that. Don’t be a disgusting perv.
Your brain settled on leaning over and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before your consistent anxiety could stop it.
And by the time his brain had caught up, you were already scrambling and running into your house before either of you could confront the feelings that had intensified over the weekend.
edit: here is part 6
Note: That was probably the longest chapter so far, and I deleted a whole scene so it took me way longer than expected. This was definitely a struggle to write but I hope you guys enjoyed it... I'm kind of worried about my writing becoming sloppier and repetitive so the next chapter might take longer to ensure only the highest quality!!, we will see. Thank you so much for reading this series has totally changed my blog, I'm having so much fun interacting with you all!! Also I did make myself laugh when I made a salt and pepper reference.
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