hey, this is my first RE9 fic here and in the x reader format so be sweethearts, thanks! 𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪 hope you enjoy it!
summary: you're the heir of a renowned virologist, a gifted geneticist at a big pharma company working under the "The Connections". You and Zeno have known each other since childhood, since your parent was literally involved in his "birth" and "creation." Now you're coworkers, and you'll do whatever it takes to push your project forward and keep your organizations' reputations intact. Except there's one catch: some childhood trauma still won't let Zeno go, and only you can help him with that.
pairing: Zeno Wesker x Reader
word count: 2,134
basic fic idea from @cherycherybabe: "imagine Zeno had a nightmare and he enters your room and asks if he can sleep with you"
Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.
The soft knock on your hotel room door made you tear your eyes away from reviewing the final protocol results you were supposed to present to the sponsors tomorrow morning. Or, well - this morning, since it was already way past midnight.
This was the last night of your stay in Munich.
In the fall, the weather here was predictably rainy: from early morning, the clouds had been covering the sky, there was this gross, drizzly rain, and you literally couldn't tell what time it was because it was just always dark.
Knock. Knock-knock. Knock.
You slowly dragged your sleepy gaze to the door, letting out a heavy sigh. Obviously, you knew who was standing behind it. You two came up with that signal back when you were kids. Well, you were a kid. He was already, like, a teenager. But you'd always been mature for your age, and he'd always been vulnerable - even though over the years he learned to hide it behind a mask of snark and fake cynicism.
You closed your laptop, set it aside, slid off the bed, and padded barefoot toward the door.
The electronic key made the lock beep. The moment you opened the door, a booming thunderclap rang out from the tall stained-glass window on the other side of the room, and lightning flashed, dramatically shattering the semi-darkness.
"Well, obviously." You gave Zeno a relaxed once-over as he stood in your doorway.
Thunderstorm. How could you forget.
"Can I?" He was standing in the hallway, shifting his weight from foot to foot, wearing an unbuttoned white shirt and those gorgeous silk pajama pants that - as you knew perfectly well - he picked out very carefully. Honestly, that went for every piece of clothing he owned. Childhood trauma really painted some wild patterns on this guy.
"Come in. And close the door already." You sigh again, step out of the way to let him in, and head toward the window to draw the curtains. "Didn't think you still…"
"Yeah. Me neither." He cuts you off mid-sentence with a quiet, sad little laugh, and you can't help but throw a sharp glance over your shoulder. Like, okay, being interrupted always annoyed the crap out of you. But this time, you held back. One look at Zeno's face and you could tell he was feeling like crap.
"Did you take your meds? The serum?" With one strong, sharp tug, you pull the blackout curtains closed, and the room goes almost pitch black.
"Yeah. Everything on schedule." You turn toward his voice and reach your hand out - like, you're only human, okay, you can't see in the dark. Zeno, though, can see you just fine, so he crosses the distance in a couple of steps, catches your outstretched hand, and helps you find your footing in the darkness.
"Good. That's good." You nod and nervously bite your lip - you hate feeling this vulnerable, so you quickly steer both of you toward the bed. Zeno gets the hint and guides you there, and as soon as you climb onto the mattress with your legs tucked under you, he stops, literally looming over you.
"What's up?" You let go of his hand and finally turn on the nightlight. The darkness fades, and you can see his amber eyes darting uncertainly somewhere past you. "You gonna sleep on the couch? It's, like, three feet - tops. And I only have one blanket." You snort, hesitate for a second, then crawl under the blanket and pull the opposite edge toward you, making room. "C'mon. Before I change my mind."
He hesitates.
His gaze flickers from the empty spot next to you on the bed to your waiting face, then off to the wall. He's unsure. You frown.
And right as he opens his mouth to answer, another thunderclap - a really loud one - booms outside.
Zeno flinches, his shoulders jerking, and his brow furrows hard.
"Quickly." You raise your voice a little, even though you don't mean to. And he gives in, nimbly climbing onto the bed next to you.
"There. That's better. Do I really have to beg you?" You snort and pull the blanket over both of you, adjusting it comfortably. You can't help but press your thigh against his, your shoulder against his shoulder, and you can feel how tense he is.
For a while, you just sort of half-sit there next to each other. Zeno stares somewhere into the depths of the room, barely blinking, but you notice the way his jaw muscles work under his cheekbones, and how his eyebrows keep twitching, just barely.
You exhale softly.
Right now, you don't see him as the grown, overconfident (maybe even too overconfident), dangerous man, the high-ranking member of a criminal syndicate that everyone else sees. You see that scrawny, pale kid with the tag on his ear, the one who snuck past security and hid in the play tent in your nursery because he got scared of a freakishly loud thunderstorm.
After a moment, you slide lower, finally letting your head fall onto the pillow.
"Turn off the nightlight?"
"N-no. But you can dim it. Thanks." He's still sitting there all tense next to you, under your blanket, and the whole situation feels more and more ridiculous.
You reach over to the nightlight and turn the light down a bit. The warm electric glow traces his profile, making him look softer, more artistic - even more attractive, if that's even possible. You snort. You've known each other for years, but nothing more intimate than this very moment has ever happened between you. And that's how it should be.
"Zeno. Hey." His lack of reaction is starting to stress you out, so you put a hand on his shoulder and gently stroke it to get his attention. He slowly turns to you and finally meets your eyes.
"Hm?" His gaze is calm, but soaked in so much sadness and thoughtfulness that you're ready to whine because you can't do a damn thing about it.
And you wish you could just crawl into his head and scoop out all that tar that's weighing him down so much.
"C'mere." Finally, you give in first. You offer your shoulder and pat it with your palm, showing Zeno that you're letting him lie down on it.
You've never done this. It breaks every boundary of the unspoken hierarchy you've built over the years. But right now, you can't do anything else.
Zeno looks down at your shoulder and frowns again. Thinking it over. Then he looks into your eyes, like he's waiting for you to waver. Change your mind. But you just look back at him with expectation and exhaustion from all these games. And he sighs quietly, giving in.
When his head touches your shoulder, you feel a nice, solid weight. Zeno is twice your size, and this whole picture probably looks hilarious from the outside. But you don't care. Here and now, none of that matters.
You wrap your arm around his shoulders as best you can and pull him closer, so he knows you're okay with this much contact.
And then another thunderclap.
He exhales loudly and instinctively tenses up in your arms. His hand twitches toward you to hug you back, but he stops himself, clenching his fingers into a fist.
"It's okay, Zeno. I don't mind. Just… relax." You bite your lip, trying to follow your own advice. But it's hard, because you've literally never in your life had to calm down a full-grown adult man's sheer terror - a man who's older and bigger than you. Plus, you're not a therapist, which makes things trickier.
After a few moments, you feel his shoulders slowly relax under your hand, and his heavy arm settles across your waist, hugging you warmly but chastely, pulling himself closer to you. He buries his face in your neck and closes his eyes, and now you can feel all of him: big, warm, and so vulnerable right now. It makes your jaw clench. You're practically trying not to breathe.
"Thanks." After a solid ten minutes of silence, he finally speaks. His face is still buried in your neck, so when he talks, you feel his lips brush against your skin.
You swallow quietly and shiver, just barely. That's… sensitive. But you try not to think about it.
"It's okay." You give a weak smile, gently stroking his shoulder. "Try to get some sleep. We need to rest well before tomorrow's meeting. You know that." You're trying to act like some business lady, but the way your heart is pounding in time with his breathing is messing up all your thoughts.
"You're right. Like always." He snorts and shifts a little, getting more comfortable, and your hand accidentally slides from his shoulder to his head. His hair is soft, so nice to touch that you zone out for a second, just running your fingers through it and massaging his scalp. You only snap out of it when he lets out a quiet exhale, his eyes fluttering shut.
This whole scene gives you this almost uncontrollable wave of soft feelings and some weird maternal care you've never felt before. And shouldn't, honestly.
Your head - almost against your will - turns toward him, and your lips gently press against his forehead. You feel his whole body tense up, feel his eyebrows move, and then… he just relaxes.
"Get some sleep. It's okay." You whisper into his forehead, not pulling your lips away from his skin, and suddenly you feel this strange, almost unnatural sense of calm yourself.
The rain outside fades, and the storm has moved far away.
Zeno is peacefully snoring on your shoulder, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, one knee hitched over your thigh like a giant teddy bear. You press your lips together, trying to ease the ache inside. Tomorrow, everything will go back to normal. Your shared world is too cruel to let yourself slip. But tonight - in this room, in this bed - you can let him feel like that little boy again, the one who hid in your nursery during the first lonely thunderstorm of his life, back in the research wing of your father's mansion.
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