There are few things Leon loves more than when Claire works from home. There are fewer things Leon loves more than visiting her on his lunch break.
(A sweet little fic in the same vein/universe as "my regards" where Leon comes home to find Claire blissed out that I posted a week or two ago.)
Happy Sunday Sweet Treat!!
Also read on ao3!
There are few things Leon loves more than when Claire works from home.
It’s rare—TerraSave never stops needing her, nor does the world—though becoming more common the older they get. He knows like the back of his hand the routine to pass the old tricks onto the new dogs, and he’s sure it’s no different for her. Even Chris and Jill seem to be stepping away from the field more and more often, leaving the fighting to those too young to know a world that was any different.
If he thinks about it too long, it makes him just as sick as it always has. The losses still loom so much larger than the wins.
But then there are days like today. Days when Claire works from home.
He turns the key in the lock on his lunch hour, uncaring of the slight grumble in his stomach, and opens the door carefully so as not to disturb anything. The house is quiet, its walls lit up by the afternoon sunlight spilling in through blinds that Claire opens every morning, a skill she taught him when all he could do was draw them shut.
Stepping inside, he toes off his boots and drops his keys on the small table and then silently moves through the kitchen. He adjusts the ever-crooked runner with his feet and turns towards the hallway, and smiles when he finally catches her soft hum floating into the air from her office. The floor doesn’t creak under his weight, no need to watch where or how his footfalls land, and he stops in the doorway. The doorframe takes his weight easily, solid oak, and he settles into himself and crosses his arms as he looks at her.
Red hair is tied up in a loose bun, a few strands falling out and whispering over the freckles on her bare shoulders and down her arms. The white tank top is one he’s intimately familiar with: ribbed, henley buttons on the front, always so soft under his touch. Even though he can’t see her face, he knows it’s glowing in the sunlight. She clears her throat and adjusts her glasses, clearly unaware of him just yet, and he watches as she grabs a pen from the small purple cup on her desk, scrawls something down on a scrap paper, taps it twice against the desk, and then puts it between her teeth to free her hand up for typing again. His smile widens until his cheeks ache but he doesn’t dare move; he wishes he could freeze the moment.
Time passes as it will. It’s no trouble to him as he observes her, his muscles relaxing in the safety of their house. Every so often, he catches sight of his wedding ring in the bottom of his vision, and it still sends a wave of energy through his chest, down and out his fingers.
He’s caught when Claire’s stomach grumbles and she swivels around in her chair. She startles and her hands instinctively reach for the top drawer handle, but she calms the second her brain processes it’s him. She rolls her eyes but can’t outrun the corner of her lip quirking up, murmuring.
“I thought I told you last time to warn a girl next time.”
“Maybe,” he shrugs and pushes himself off the wall. Taking in the stretch of her body when she reaches her arms towards the ceiling, the way her tank top rides up and her gentle curves. She’s warm when he wraps his arms around her, and she lets out an easy laugh when he kisses her hair and then nuzzles into her.
“Mm,” he squeezes her tight for a second. His thumbs caress her back and he kisses the spot a second time before pulling back to smile down at her. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she says softly. She rises onto her toes at the same moment he leans down, and their lips meet in the middle. Safe. Familiar. Exciting. He feels her body respond to his touch, her heels hitting the ground, her hands sliding around to hold his biceps. The air is thick and humid between them when they part, and she’s absolutely perfect. “Surprised Hunnigan let you sneak out of there today; it’s Friday.”
“Yeah, well, the suits can wait for their reports for once. It’s not like they actually read whatever I write.”
The side of her thumbnail scratches lightly at the back of his neck. It sends sparks down his spine.
“I know the feeling,” Claire commiserates. “What about lunch? You want anything specific?”
“I don’t care. What do you normally eat?”
A baby pink blush covers her face that she tries to hide by scrunching her nose. He shakes his head and moves his hand so his palm rests flat on her stomach.
“Popcorn and orange juice isn’t lunch.”
“I have to disagree. Especially when it’s quick and I don’t have to think about it.”
Her stubbornness only thaws him from the inside out but he tries nonetheless.
“You know, I’m sure Hunnigan would be happy to order something for you and send it over.”
Patting his chest twice, she shakes her head.
“Hunnigan basically lives in that office. She can have whatever steak and lobster she wants for lunch as far as I’m concerned for keeping you safe. I’m okay with piecemealing it.”
“I don’t think that counts, but,” he concedes, aware of the tick of his watch, “I’m home, so you don’t have to think of something today, and you don’t have to cook it. How about grilled cheese?”
She considers it for a moment.
“We have tomato soup?”
“Got some on the way. Cans are on the kitchen table.”
She narrows her eyes though she stays steadily in his hold.
“You planned this?” She says, and he chuckles when it lands halfway between a question and an accusation. He gives her lips a quick peck and shrugs.
“Maybe. But I also picked up those brownies you like for dessert.”
Her eyes go almost as wide as her glasses frames, and he swears he hears her heart pick up its beat.
“The ones—”
“With the frosting.” He nods. “And the peanut butter, and the walnuts. And I stuck them in the freezer so they should be just about where you like them by the time we’re done.”
She shakes her head in awe that makes him feel like he’s floating on a cloud, and they’re both smiling when their lips meet again.
“Did I tell you I love you?” She asks as she steps around him towards the kitchen, intertwining their fingers as she goes.
I work with kids and sometimes we have to do safety lessons with them about like, not telling strangers on the internet your home address or something. And sometimes the kids wont understand why, so you have to impart upon them that, well, some adults want to hurt children. And thats kind of difficult to do, because you have to beat around the bush, both because you dont want to scare them (while still making them understand how serious it is) and because you might lose your job if you explain it too straight forward.
Luckily, for some reason, the villain of one of the most popular franchises with children for the last 10 years happens to be a serial child murderer. So when a kid asks why they shouldnt trust strangers, instead of hand wringing and humhawing my answer out, I can just say "we dont always know when a strange adult has good intentions with children, or when they are William Afton."
