Prompt by: @madeinheavcnn , @lilyofclaires and @lysa1201
—
It was 2007, only months after the White House incident—the chip, the fallout, and the sharp silence that followed. Leon hadn’t seen Claire since, and honestly, he hadn’t expected to—not so soon, anyway.
Chris knew it. That’s why, when Piers asked him to be best man, Chris had the perfect excuse. He cornered Leon with the request: take Claire to the venue. Leon cursed him for it. Chris was fully aware of the tension. But Leon also knew he couldn’t keep avoiding her forever.
—
Leon found himself at Claire’s house, knocking on her door, the weight of it heavier than he expected.
“Come in!” her voice carried from inside.
He stepped in, and there she was—descending the stairs with the light spilling in behind her. For a second, Leon had to squint. She looked different, and yet… exactly the same.
“Ehem. You look good… still not ready?” His voice cracked just slightly.
“No, I’m just about,” she replied, lowering herself onto the bottom step to slip on her heels.
Silence hung between them, thicker than either wanted to admit. They hadn’t faced each other since she’d confronted him about the chip—since she’d accused him of burying the truth, of choosing orders over people.
“Are you… how are you?” he tried, masking the crack in his voice with a cough.
Claire glanced up, unimpressed, sharp and knowing. “What is it, Leon?” she asked flatly, sensing exactly where he was headed but refusing to open the door for him. She wasn’t going to make it easy.
He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “I… did what I thought was right. I still do.” His voice was low, steady. Even now, he couldn’t bring himself to regret the decision.
She paused, finally meeting his eyes. She knew that stubborn edge in his tone. He was doubling down—same as always. Duty first.
Leon sat beside her on the step. The air tightened between them.
“I know,” she said softly, with the smallest smile. She set her heels down and turned to face him more fully. “You know… I was the one who asked Chris to send you.”
His head tilted, surprise flickering across his face before relief washed over him, softening his expression. “…Redfields,” he muttered with a breathless chuckle, shaking his head. The tension eased just a little, like something heavy had slipped from his shoulders without him realizing. She always had that effect on him.
Now, sitting this close, Leon let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding since that night in D.C.
He started talking—about Wilson, about the cover-up, about why he believed holding the line was the only way forward. Claire listened, arms crossed at first, her expression caught between exasperation and reluctant amusement. She didn’t agree. She probably never would.
But she had missed him.
And for tonight, that mattered more than the fight.
—
They arrived at Piers’ wedding venue thirty minutes late. Chris spotted them as they slipped in, Leon awkwardly straightening his tie, Claire brushing her hair back into place. From his place near the altar, Chris smirked knowingly, leaning toward Jill. “Called it.” Jill only shook her head with a sigh, but her smile betrayed her.
AAAAHHH im sorry for the super late post! this is my last entry I ENJOYED THIS EVENT A LOT! looking forward for future events heheheh. Part II of this isn't really cleon anymore it's just the aftermath of teh wedding party.
While on a visit to Raccoon City, Claire spots the rookie cop she's only met a handful of times hiding from the rain and decides to help him out.
Written for Cleon Fluff Week 2025; prompt: When It Rains
Rating: G | Fandom: Resident Evil | AU: No Zombies | Pairing: Claire/Leon | Read on AO3
---
The warm summer rain pitter-pat-ed against Claire’s umbrella as she walked on the sidewalk to the police station. Her classes were over for the summer, and staying inside Chris’ apartment all day just made her feel cooped up and restless. She was grateful he let her stay with him when classes were out and the dorms were mostly empty, but he didn’t keep much that interested her around. And while the police station didn’t have a whole lot either, it at least had people and leftover architecture from when it was a museum.
Just as she was about to walk up the steps, fat drops splattering the sidewalk, she noticed someone standing underneath the overhang. It was that rookie cop she’d seen around a few times, and he was huddled against the concrete wall and looking up at the sky almost hopefully. She still remembered the first time she met him.
It had been last September, and she had been visiting Chris just after her second year at college had started. He had been on a mission when classes started, and even though he’d called her several times, she needed to see him in person to feel at ease. She had been sitting on the reception desk chatting with Mrs. Bennet—who had been growing increasingly annoyed with Claire for disturbing her work—when the door to her right opened and out popped a young officer with sandy-blond hair she had never seen before. His arms were full of files that immediately ended up on the floor when he caught sight of her looking at him.
Claire had hopped down to help him pick everything up as his face turned increasingly red. Don’t worry, she’d whispered with a smile, hoping to put him at ease, those folders look really slippery anyway. He mumbled a thank you and darted into the east wing with his eyes glued to the floor.
Who was that? she asked Mrs. Bennet once she had perched herself back on the desk. I haven’t seen him around here before.
Officer Kennedy, she said with an eye roll. Started a few weeks ago. Showed up late and hungover on his first day. I don’t think he’ll be around here long.
Claire always took everything Mrs. Bennet said with a grain of salt, knowing her to be prone to exaggeration and gossip, and made sure to ask Chris about him. He confirmed everything she said to be true, but added with a sympathetic look, He’s a good kid. His heart is in the right place, and I can tell he’s trying. Unluckiest guy I’ve ever met though. He then proceeded to ask Claire repeatedly, with a growing smile each time, why she was asking about him so much. She remembered throwing a pillow at him to finally get him to knock it off.
She had run into him a few more times over the following months, never getting in more than a few words, and she usually got even fewer out of him. Considering he was in a different department than her brother, there weren’t often many opportunities to talk, but she always at least tried to say hi when she could.
“Officer Kennedy,” she called out over the pouring rain. “Did you forget your umbrella?”
He jumped, face beginning to pinken as he raised a hand in a hesitant wave, the sheepish grin she usually ended up seeing him sport beginning to spread across his face. “Yeah.”
Claire climbed the first step. “Would you like me to walk you to your car?”
“Oh, no. No, I couldn’t ask you to do that.” He put his hands out in front of him, a very obvious blush now covering his cheeks.
She tilted her head to the side and shifted her weight to the other foot. “Isn’t there an employee entrance?”
“Um.” He scratched the back of his neck, spinning around to look at the front door of the police station. “I, uh… Um. Since I’m already out here…”
“Mrs. Bennet really isn’t as scary as she seems,” Claire said, lips pulling into a sympathetic smile.
“I don’t think she likes me very much,” he said, dropping his hand to his side.
Claire gave a little wave and let out a light laugh. “I don’t think she likes anyone. You’ve just got to give her back the same energy. That’s what I do anyway.” She took another step up and watched as he continued to stare at the door. “Why aren’t you using the employee entrance in the first place? Do you normally walk home?”
“No, I have a car.” He continued to avoid her gaze. Eventually he took in a deep breath and let it out. “I use the front entrance because there’s less of a chance of running into Chief Irons. But,” he added, finally swinging around to face her, “sometimes the bakery across the street has a discount on yesterday’s pastries, so it’s nice to be able to see if the sign is out.”
“You’d be able to see it from your car,” she pointed out. “But I totally understand. Irons is kind of a creep. Chris gets bad vibes from him too, so I don’t blame you. I’d hate having to work in the same building as him.”
He breathed out a sigh of relief. “I don’t think he likes me very much either, and yeah. Officer Branagh also has some—” He stiffened, eyes going wide.
Claire waved her hand again. “I’m not going to say anything, don’t worry. But you probably should be careful who you say things to.”
“I know!” He frowned down at her, jaw set and eyebrows furrowed. Then he returned a hand to the back of his neck and dropped his gaze. “But you’re Chris’ sister, so it’s different. And also I feel like I can—” His voice stopped abruptly and the color in his cheeks deepened.
A beat passed. “You can trust me,” she said, making a point to do her best to keep her own face from burning. “But you should still be careful what you say.”
“I will.”
She took the final step up so that she was standing directly next to him. “So,” she said, looking back out to the puddles in the street, “are you just going to stand here and wait until the rain stops?”
“Maybe,” he said, crossing his arms and looking back up a the sky. “Or I could just walk out in it. I’m not that sweet. I won’t melt.”
“Officer Kennedy,” she said, raising her umbrella up higher, “please let me walk you to your car.”
He glanced at her, the door, and then the sky again before ducking down under her umbrella and taking a step down with a small sigh. “It’s Leon, by the way. You can just call me Leon. I’m off the clock.”
“Claire,” she said, holding out her hand. “In case I hadn’t told you yet.”
Leon placed his gloved hand into hers, holding it gently in a small shake before quickly pulling it back. “I’m not sure if you have, but Chris talks about you enough that I think I knew that.”
“Oh, does he now?” She waited until Leon took another step down and followed him, ensuring she didn’t hit the top of his head with her umbrella. “Hopefully nothing bad.” A small heat rushed into her cheeks as she remembered the way he had teased her the day she had first met Leon.
“Of course not!” He remained hunched over a little once they were on even ground, huddled under the safety of the umbrella.. “He’s just really proud of everything you’re doing.”
Claire hummed a little in acknowledgment, making a mental note to ask Chris about it later. “He’s a good guy. Said some decent things about you too.”
“Oh?” Leon looked down at the sidewalk. “Well, that means a lot. I’ve consulted with him on a few things, even if I don’t get to talk to him much. And he’s a well respected member of the force.”
“Yeah, I asked him about you after that first time we met.”
“Oh…”
Claire touched his shoulder playfully—not quite a shove, so as not to knock him into the rain, but she made sure it was firm enough to not be mistaken as anything else. “I hadn’t seen you before. I was just curious who you were, that’s all. Relax.”
For a few moments, the only sound that could be heard was the raindrops that pelted the street next to them and the top of the umbrella. It really wasn’t a long walk to the employee parking lot, but they each took the smallest steps possible, and Claire wasn’t sure if it was just to avoid walking faster than the other in order to stay dry, or if they were both trying to make it last as long as possible.
“Did you want to hold the umbrella?” she finally said, breaking the silence. “You know, since you’re taller? That way you wouldn’t have to hunch over like that.”
“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he replied, arms crossed as he gave her a crooked grin.
“It’s really not a big deal.” Claire held out the handle to him.
Leon looked at the umbrella like it might bite him before he placed his hand on it, fingertips brushing hers for just a second and eliciting a small gasp Claire didn’t think she was supposed to hear. “Thank you.”
“Like I said, not a problem.” She put her hands in the pockets of her shorts, leisurely taking step after step on the wet pavement. When she thought he wasn’t looking, she chanced glancing up at him.
He apparently was looking, and once he realized she was too, he quickly averted his eyes. She couldn’t help but notice another light dusting of pink begin to cover his face. “So what are you majoring in?” he asked, voice just a pitch higher than it had been before.
“Criminology.” Claire stepped over a rather large puddle on the sidewalk. “I’ve thought about going into the research side of the field or maybe even detective work. But I’m really hoping to go into research. I feel like I’d be able to do more good for the world that way, you know?” After carefully maneuvering around another puddle, she looked up to him again and regretted doing so when she started feeling butterflies in her stomach.
Leon’s clear blue eyes looked at her with a level of admiration she honestly hadn’t been expecting.
But she could almost see the question forming in his head: What made you want to go into that field? And she was grateful he didn’t ask. After all, she had made a point not to ask him that similar question. Some things were just too personal to bring up right away, and it always bothered her that it was so often one of the first things asked when meeting new people in college.
Once they finally arrived at the parking lot, she asked, “So which one’s your car?”
Leon’s face fell for half a second before he gestured toward a slightly worse-for-wear car near the back. “It’s not much,” he said, “but it gets me to and from work.”
“That’s the important thing.” She took a step forward, raindrops hitting her leg before she realized Leon had slowed down even more.
“What about you? Did you drive?” He looked around the lot before turning back to her and saying hurriedly, “Not that I need to know which car is yours, I just thought it would be nice in the future to know if—”
“I took the subway.” Claire looked up at him, shaking her head a little as a small smile tugged at her lips. “But my bike is parked at Chris’ apartment, if that’s what you were wanting to know.”
“Bike, as in motorcycle?” he asked, eyes sparkling in awe.
She nodded, smile growing. “You ever ridden one before?”
Leon pulled out his car keys. “No, but I’d like to. You never know when it might come in handy.”
Feeling bold, Claire offered, “Well, I could teach you some other time when I’m in town, if you’d like.” She licked her lips nervously and avoided his eyes. “You know, as long as your girlfriend wouldn’t mind.”
“I don’t… Not…” He cleared his throat, fumbling with his keys. “I don’t actually have a girlfriend at the moment.” Trying to catch her gaze, he then slowly asked, “And I’m assuming your boyfriend wouldn’t care either?”
Claire crossed her arms and took a step closer to him, all too aware of how fast her heart was beating in her chest, and looked up. “I also happen to be in between boyfriends right now. So it shouldn’t be a problem for me.”
Leon’s eyes flickered down briefly before he took a sharp step back and bumped into his car. He tried to play it off like he had been intending to casually lean on it, despite his uniform now getting soaked. “So, I’ll see you next time you’re in town?”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” They stared at each other for a moment before Claire reached out for her umbrella back. She allowed her hand to linger on top of his for a moment longer than necessary when she grabbed it. “You can pay me for the lessons with some of those discount pastries you were talking about. And also maybe coffee depending on how long I’m here.”
“I can probably arrange that,” Leon said, lips pulling into the most relaxed smile she had seen on him yet. “And thank you for walking me to my car.”
Claire returned the smile. “Any time. But I think you should probably invest in an umbrella.”
He let out a small laugh before opening the door and getting into his car. “See you around,” he said before closing it.
Claire waved to him and watched as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, headlights reflecting off the wet pavement. She started back toward the station entrance with a slight bounce in her step and a warmth in her chest, already planning her next visit.
just letting everyone participating in cleon fluff week or anyone looking at what’s been contributed to the event by our lovely cleon creators that all works shared to #cleonfluffweek/#cleon fluff week here on tumblr will be reblogged to this account, as will works shared on twitter/x to the respective cleon events account on that platform. as the event comes to an end, any works shared and posted under the cleon fluff week tag will be compiled into a carrd or strawpage for anyone to view and check out - an archive for the event basically.
just a few things to note:
— works shared will always be linked and credited to the creator.
— anyone who does not wish for their work to be shared may let us know.
— please understand that problematic individuals’ contributions will not be included.
A date is when two people go out together under the assumption that the other is interested—simple enough. But nothing ever felt simple with them.
Leon rarely initiated plans. He was the type to show up when asked, not the one doing the asking. But earlier that day, Carlos had mentioned there was free beer downtown, and for once, Leon found himself sending the invitation. To Claire. Just free drinks, nothing more… at least that’s what he told himself.
When they arrived, the smell of cheap rum and the hum of conversation filled the place. And tucked into one corner, a pool table. Claire’s eyes lit up, that little competitive spark of hers flickering instantly to life. Leon tried to play it cool, chalking up a cue like he’d been doing this for years. But she read him too well—she always had.
It didn’t take long before she was sinking shot after shot with that effortless grin that made it impossible to look away. By the time she won, Leon was brooding. Claire laughed at his expression.
“Oh, don’t pout, Leon. It’s not a good look on you.” Her teasing softened as she nudged his shoulder, the warmth of her touch lingering longer than it should have. “You did good. Just… not good enough.”
She moved closer, just enough for him to feel it, and in that quiet moment between laughter and comfort, Leon wondered—was this more than just two friends sharing free drinks and a game of pool?
So… was it a date?
For Leon, he hoped it was. More than he wanted to admit.
150 Horizon Parkway, Harvardville, MA 01752 ✈️ (5 minutes from Harvardville Regional Airport terminal)
—
The suite was bigger than most apartments, all clean lines and quiet luxury. Hardwood floors, full kitchen, a wall of glass looking out toward the runway. The kind of place you paid too much for, but neither of them had argued when the front desk handed over the keys.
Morning light spilled across the kitchen table, catching on two mismatched bowls of cereal between them. Leon was still in a mood from yesterday, hunched over his spoon, eyes fixed on the counter like it had done him wrong.
“You’re still sulking,” she said, teasing lilt in her voice. “What, did your cereal offend you?”
Leon didn’t look up. He just kept chewing.
She smirked. “Guess so.”
That was all it took. He set his spoon down, pushed back his chair, and stepped around the table. Before she could move, his hands were braced on either side of her, caging her against the edge of the table.
“Stop that,” he said, low and sharp, enough to thicken the air.
For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then he kissed her—quick, rough, no hesitation.
Claire blinked, startled, then melted into it, her hands digging into his hair. When they parted, she was already grinning.
“Still funny,” she murmured.
His lips twitched—and he kissed her again.
[Present Day]
Why They Never Talk About It...
It wasn’t planned, and it wasn’t a confession—just an impulse sparked by exhaustion, adrenaline, and the strange comfort of surviving with someone who understood. For Leon, it was easier to file it away in the same locked mental box as every other fleeting moment he can’t afford to dwell on. For Claire, it was just them, no need to complicate something that didn’t have to be defined. So they left it there, unspoken, and moved on.
Part II: Sunset 🌇
Prompt by: @madeinheavcnn , @lilyofclaires, @lysa1201
—
Leon S. Kennedy | Monologue
The sunset wasn’t anything special. Just another day ending, the sky bleeding out like it always does. We were on her balcony, leaning on that rusted railing she swears isn’t going to give out. I could hear the faint hum of traffic a few blocks away, but here it was quiet, just the wind pushing at the loose strands of her hair.
Then she left. No warning, just slipped inside, the door sliding shut with that grating scrape it makes. I figured she was grabbing a drink or answering her phone. But she came back with this old, clunky Polaroid camera dangling from her fingers. The same one she used during my birthday.
Before I could tell her I’m not much for pictures, she was already raising it as she pressed herself next to me.
“Hold still,” she said, didn’t even give me a chance to tell her no.
The shutter went off, loud and abrupt. I blinked against it, annoyed. The square photo slid out, pale and lifeless. She shook the picture like people think you’re supposed to. Bit by bit, the shapes appeared—her eyes and mine, caught in the same frame.
She looked at it, just for a moment, then handed it to me without a second thought.
“For you,” she said, like it was nothing at all.
I took it and slid it into my jacket pocket, not saying a word figuring it’d end up in the trash later.
It’s still there. Has been ever since. The edges are curled now, the surface scuffed to hell from rubbing against loose change, debris, and crumpled receipts. The colors have faded, but the shapes remain: her eyes, the way they glistened under the sun, her cheeks pressed against mine, the light hitting her just right.
I don’t pull it out much. Can’t, really. I don’t want to look at it for too long. But I can’t put it away either. So it stays there, caught between being kept and being forgotten.
Every time I put on that jacket, my fingers find the photo before anything else—the edges brushing against my skin through the lining, like I’m checking to make sure it’s still there.
—
Raw photo below
Urk, this was hard to write. I wanted to capture Leon's grit and almost cynical tone, as if it’s actually him. I also wanted him to have a sense of denial—he knows what he’s feeling but doesn’t want to address it—while still keeping their banter-like dynamic. I hope I did it justice.
Part I: Sunrise 🌄
Prompt by: @madeinheavcnn, @lilyofclaires, @lysa1201
When He Wakes Up
Sunlight cuts across the room before I’m ready for it—slipping past the blinds, laying that soft gold over everything it touches. Claire’s still asleep beside me, one arm folded under her head, the other drawn close like she’s holding onto something in her dreams.
We’ve done this before. Same bed. Same rules we don’t bother saying out loud. And we stick to them. At least, that’s what we tell ourselves.
I let my eyes stay on her. Her hair’s fallen over her face again, and before I think twice, I brush it back. She doesn’t stir. My hand lingers longer than it should, the warmth of her skin seeping into my palm.
It’s a habit now—one I never talk about. When I wake up first, I take these moments like they belong to me. She’s not around often, and when she is, I’m not stupid enough to waste the chance to be this close.
The sunlight creeps higher, catching the tips of her lashes, and I’m dragged back to another morning. Years ago. Different place. Different reasons. It wasn’t about the kiss—we’ve never made it about that—but the way the light fell that day… it’s the same.
So I stay here, holding onto the memory until it blurs into the present, letting myself keep it just a little longer before reality steps in and takes it away.
—
When She Wakes Up
She stirs eventually, a soft inhale breaking the stillness. Her eyes blink open, hazy with sleep, and she catches him watching.
“What?” her voice is rough, barely above a whisper.
“Nothing,” he says, leaning back just enough to give her space.
She hums, unconvinced, and stretches, arm brushing his before she rolls onto her back. For a moment, she studies the ceiling like it has the answers to whatever she’s dreaming about. Then she glances at him again, a faint, sleepy smile tugging at her mouth.
“Sun’s too bright,” she mutters, and pulls the blanket higher over her head.
There’s no trace of old memories, no sign of how much he’s been turning it over in his head—just another morning, played out exactly the way they always do.
