Cooperative parenting (part 4) - The Rehearsal
Pairing: Leon Kennedy (RE4) x fem!reader Summary: You and Leon have been broken up for a long time but you still co-parent. After your daughter's seventh birthday party, things got a little heated. But it's fine, right?
part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5, part 6
Notes: And we're at part 4. Leon is trying really hard in this one. Enjoy, you lovely people and let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part <3
Make requests here.
WC: 2.8k
Warnings: probably not a lot for this one, dad!Leon, divorced Leon, co-parenting, single mom, pregnancy, dyslexia, cutie Leon
Masterlist
The drive to the psychologist’s office that was going to carry out Lottie’s assessment was awkward as hell. You wanted to melt into the seat and turn into an insentient glob of goo, never to be seen again.
Leon didn’t say anything. You didn’t say anything, either. Because you didn’t know what to say.
You glanced at Lottie through the rearview mirror. She was safely tucked into the children’s seat, softly humming while lost in thought and looking out the window.
The rest of the car was filled with the elephant in the room, so to speak. How much did Leon suspect? Did he know? The fact that he had lied about the milk wasn’t lost on you. But you didn’t want to ruin it all and come in guns blazing, when in reality you just misread his behaviour.
Biting your lip you studied him from the passenger seat, to get a good read on him. You really had a knack for choosing your baby daddies. Out of all the people you could have chosen to accidentally get knocked up by, you had picked a US special agent trained to hide his emotions as an essential survival skill. And for your second baby, you decided to repeat your signature trick. Because it worked so well the first time.
“Fucking fantastic,” you whispered, sinking deeper into your seat.
Leon’s head turned to you. “You good?” Your eyes flickered to his and you awkwardly shifted in your seat. He definitely knew.
“Don’t worry, your dashboard’s safe,” you joked but he didn’t return the favour. Instead, his forehead wrinkled. Maybe he didn’t know anything. Or did he? You rubbed your forehead. Truth was, no matter how much he knew, you knew that you didn’t know shit about fuck.
Leon pulled into the parking lot and Lottie jumped out of her seat. You peeled yourself away from the upholstery and followed them into the practice.
A medical assistant greeted you, a preppy looking lady in a neat pencil skirt, and told you to take a seat in the waiting room. You were the only ones in, probably due to your appointment being so early.
The educational psychologist came in to pick up Lottie moments later, telling you she would already start on the assessment while you, the parents, filled out a few additional questionnaires. She handed you a thick stack of paper.
Leon watched her as she left the waiting room. “She handed those straight off to you. She didn’t even consider giving them to me.”
You sighed. “That’s because I’m the mom and you’re the dad.”
“Does she think I can’t answer questions about my own daughter?” he huffed.
“Can you though?” You leaned back so he could get a good look at the documents, too. To your bewilderment, he put his arm around you and gently pushed your head back until it was resting against his chest.
“Name, date of birth, obviously,” he murmured, taking the pen from your hand and scribbling in the responses.
“Her school’s address is…” His tongue darted out between his lips and you watched him from below, the way his adam’s apple bobbed and his scent enveloping you driving you near crazy.
Did he always smell this intoxicating or was that some kind of primal, pregnancy instinct taking over? You tried to remember what it was like when you were pregnant with Lottie, but it was different then. At twenty-one you had been convinced he was the love of your life.
“No long-term medication. Measles? No, she’s vaccinated.”
His chin brushed against the top of your head and your lips fell open. Shit. You cleared your throat and rubbed your chest as if that could make the frantic beating of your heart go away. He was way too close and your stomach was fluttering way too hard.
“Complications during pregnancy: none, except for Raccoon City but we’re not putting that down.”
You chuckled. “I wasn’t even there.”
“I’m glad you weren’t,” he sighed. “Natural birth, again no complications. You were late by,” he paused. “Six days.”
You nodded, giving in, leaning closer into him. “I was walking up and down the stairs all night in the shitty apartment building we lived in trying to induce naturally. Do you remember that?”
Leon chuckled. “Yeah. I was sitting on the cold tiles, begging you to come back to bed. But you were too antsy.” His throat bobbed. “Post-natal problems, none. Early milestones…”
“You weren’t there. You were deployed to, I think somewhere in Europe at the time,” you cut in, clearly remembering begging Hunnigan to at least pass on the information that Lottie had started walking. She refused. You were on a strict no contact rule to ensure the safety of the mission and everyone involved.
You were so in love with him back then. So in love that you didn’t even realise how naive it all was. Knowing he was in active danger while you had no way of checking in on him, only the promise that he would do everything he could to get back home to you and your baby.
What kind of promise was that for a twenty-two year old to make anyway? There was no way this could have worked out.
“She’s right-handed,” Leon went on and you shook your head.
“Not for writing.”
Leon’s head jerked down to face you. “Really?”
You took the pen out of his hand. “Neat handwriting? No. Fatigue after reading, yes.”
“Last optometrist appointment?” Leon asked.
You quietly counted, looking at the ceiling and made a note of the month and year. “That must have been in … November.”
“I don’t know if she’s good at math.” Leon whispered and pointed at an entire section. “I’ve never watched her while she’s reading, so I have no idea if she’s experiencing any discomfort during it. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever done homework with her once.”
You pressed your lips together, quietly filling in all the sections without even having to think about it. Leon watched every minuscule movement of the pen. He wasn’t the default parent. You were.
“I can take apart and reassemble any type of gun in under a minute but I don’t know if my only daughter is good at math,” he whispered.
“In fairness, some people with regular jobs couldn’t answer some of these questions about their children without speaking to the other parent,” you said, dating and signing the questionnaire.
“I just never realised I missed so many of her milestones. I mean, I still am. I didn’t even know she was left-handed.” He chewed on his lower lip.
You stilled, blood pulsing in your ears, the words slipping past your lips on their own, your voice barely audible. “Do you want a do-over?”
He tensed. “Why are you saying that?”
You opened your mouth, closed it again, dry swallowing when you reminded yourself that you actually didn’t want to tell him until you were absolutely sure of how you felt about it. “Nothing, just mulling it over.”
“I’m not stupid, you know,” he said after a while and took the questionnaire from your hands, turning to the page about your first pregnancy and Lottie’s birth. “Should I add intense nausea in the first trimester, almost always triggered by dairy or is that irrelevant?”
You froze, freed yourself from his grasp and sat up straight in the waiting room chair.
“When were you planning on telling me?” Leon went on, searching your face for any indication. “You were going to tell me, right? Soon?”
“It’s not really for you to worry about,” you hissed, like an animal being cornered.
Leon’s brows shot up and a choked gasp fell from his lips. “How is that not for me to worry about?”
You snatched back the paper questionnaire and flaunted it in front of him. “I think this made it very clear that I’m the one doing the heavy lifting. I wasn’t going to be as delusional as I was at twenty-one, thinking we’d be in this together, high on some kind of sappy, happy family bullshit.”
Leon flinched like you had shot him straight in the chest. “That’s unfair.”
“It’s realistic,” you concluded. “How fucked up is it that it happened twice? How am I even going to explain this to Lottie?” You flexed your hands before burying your face in them. “‘It’s fine, I’ll pull out’,” you dropped your voice an octave, imitating him, before letting out a string of curses. “God. Fuck.”
He narrowed his eyes at you. “Don’t put this on me.”
“Well, you were there, weren’t you? And just as fucking brain dead.” you hissed. “I told you we should be using a condom.”
“See, this is where you lose me because what I remember you saying is ‘Oh fuck Leon, you feel so good, don’t stop’ and not ‘let’s take a moment here to reflect and discuss contraception’.”
The medical assistant standing next to you cleared her throat. “Are you done with the questionnaire?”
“Yes,” you and Leon snapped at the same time. Blood shot into your face and you handed off the stack of papers. The medical assistant looked between you and Leon, visibly uncomfortable and unsure how to proceed.
“Lottie’s already started on her assessment. One of you can come in with her, or both. Or you can leave and pick her up in about,” she checked her watch, “two hours.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Leon said without missing a beat, reaching into his pocket to fish out the car keys and handing them off to you. “I need to know about this and her needs more. Her mother can go get frozen yogurt in the meantime or something.”
You glared at him, grinding your teeth, the jab not lost on you. Neither was the fact that he didn’t even call you by your name or face you.
“Okay,” the medical assistant said, forcing a smile. “Please follow me, Mr. Kennedy.” Leon got up from his seat and left the room.
You pinched the bridge of your nose. This was exactly how you didn’t want any of this to go.
Joke was on Leon because you actually went ahead and got vegan frozen yogurt from the drive-thru. After that, you drove straight to the diner to drown your sorrows in heaps of soy and sugar, topped with maraschino cherries, salted caramel and gummy worms.
Javi watched you silently through the kitchen window, reaching under the counter and slowly pushing a jar of dill pickles in your direction. You looked at it, sighed and reached for it, unscrewing the top and taking a swig of the pickling liquid.
“Don’t come for my corn chowder ever again,” Javi said and joined in on watching the customers with you.
“I’m pregnant, I’m allowed,” you replied, shoving another spoonful of fro-yo in your mouth.
“See, I would let that go, but the thing is you always eat like this,” he argued.
You chuckled, but your chin started to quiver and a salty tear fell into the white frozen treat.
Javi called out for Rhonda, who finished cashing up a customer and slid in the seat next to you. She let you cry for a second, softly rubbing your trembling shoulders until you straightened, wiped your eyes with a disposable napkin and cleared your throat.
“Give it to me straight, guys,” you sniffled. “No need to beat around the bush.”
“I think you love him,” Rhonda said, unflinching. “In fact, you love him so much, the idea that it might not work out scares you shitless. So you sabotage when things get serious because that feels safe while also still making him engage with you on an emotional level, but it’s not the emotion you’re actually looking for. Deep down.”
Javi drew in a sharp breath. “Damn, Rhonda.”
You gulped and downed another pickle juice chaser.
“And you’re up the duff, whether you like it or not. You need to stop messing around and stand on business. What’s done is done,” Rhonda went on, exposing you entirely to the truth. You had asked for it after all.
“Right,” you murmured, stabbing at a red gummy worm in your bowl until it split into two. “I’m worried we’ll lose sight of Lottie while we figure out the new baby. She’s already the one coming up short in all this.”
“She’ll be excited to be an older sister,” Javi said. “And if you’re worried about the whole family dynamics thing and it getting messy, I doubt she cares as much as you think. I’ve seen her with Leon from day one, she’s just happy he’s here.”
You thought about her sitting at the kitchen table, not even fazed by the fact that Leon was fixing her breakfast after having obviously stayed the night. Like it was the most normal thing in the world. She hadn’t even asked a single question about that all morning.
“You said ‘we’,” Rhonda pointed out. “Not ‘I’. So, you know he’ll be there. And even if he’s not, I’ll be here, Javi’s also not going anywhere. You’re trying to pass off pessimism as realism. So, what’s the real issue here?”
You pursed your lips. “I run when I’m scared,” you murmured, remembering Leon’s words.
“No offense, but give you seven more months and there’ll be no running anywhere,” Rhonda chuckled and you squeezed your eyes shut, fondly remembering the stage of pregnancy when you would be having trouble putting on your own shoes.
You scraped the last bit of frozen yogurt out of the bowl. “Honestly, as long as I make it to the second trimester, we’re good. Because,” you vaguely gestured at your stomach and throat. “fuck this.”
After Lottie was done with her test, you dropped her off at school, Leon in the passenger seat this time. She waved at you, as she was walking up to the building. Not entirely ready to let go of you just yet. You didn’t blame her.
“Now I’m no expert and we’ll have to wait for the results but I think our daughter is dyslexic as fuck,” Leon said when she was inside.
“You know what? That’s a good thing. Because then she’ll finally get the support she needs and I kinda hope it’ll help with the bullying, too.”
Leon whipped around to face you. “She’s getting bullied?”
You nodded. “Did she not tell you?”
Leon shook his head.
“I think sometimes she’s happy she’s just having fun when she’s with you. Like getting a break from real life? And that’s fine. We don’t have to occupy the exact same space in her life.”
“I guess you’re right,” he trailed off, absentmindedly tapping his knuckle against the car door.
“And I’m pregnant as fuck,” you said, flashing him a timid smile. “I wanted to make sure you heard me say it because I don’t want to be keeping things from you.”
“That’s a good thing, too,” he muttered.
“I don’t know. Is it?” You chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of your tense neck.
Leon nodded. “It is. And it’s a little funny if you think about it.” You thought about it. Leon, all hot and bothered, absolutely feral for you, breathlessly asking you for a condom. Just to bury himself to the hilt moments later without one, fucking you with deep punishing strokes until you were reduced to a moaning mess on top of him.
He totally promised he'd pull out but neither of you were thinking about anything other than hitting every sweet spot you could ever imagine. Just like the first time around.
“It is very funny actually,” you confirmed and Leon leaned back in his seat, covering his eyes.
You studied his face, his straight nose, sharp jawline, angular features disrupted by the curve of his full lips. Had they always been this kissable? Or was that another one of those enhanced pregnancy senses to ensure bonding to the father?
“What are you doing for the rest of the day?” he asked.
“Probably laundry.” You shrugged, his voice making you a little flustered, all of a sudden. There was no way you could put all this down to hormones, but you were too scared of the alternative. “What are you doing for the rest of the day?”
“Taking you on a date,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And then I’ll help you with laundry.”














