Bedside Manner
Leon S. Kennedy x GN S/O
AN: In celebration of completing RE9: Requiem, I wrote this! And, while I think that Leon is a pretty tragic character when you think about it and he deserves all the nice things, I found that I have to get all the thirsting out of the way before I can write anything soft for him, lol. Anyways, I personally envision this taking place at some point after RE4 because I just really like Leon's personality in that game. Hope you like it!
Word Count: 3,424
Warnings: Explicit Language, Blood and Injury, Wound Care.
“If you got any complaints about my bedside manner you can go ahead and file them with Corporal Trash Can right there.” You said gruffly while nodding at the garbage bin –the one filled with bloodied gauze and torn wrappers from various medical supplies– that you had pulled up next to the chair that you’d practically dumped Leon into once you had dragged him inside.
You were in the middle of trying to extract a bullet from Leon’s left shoulder, the new gaping wound he'd acquired only an inch or so away from the starburst scar he’d gotten while in Raccoon City as a rookie cop, and you weren’t being nice since Leon had made the utterly idiotic decision of getting between you and a bullet like some kind of white knight.
Leon grunted as you dug around the meat of his shoulder with a pair of bullet forceps in search of the small projectile, the blond gritting his teeth harder around the ragged strip of his ridiculously tight shirt that you had been forced to cut off him in order to gain access to the injury, sweat beading on his forehead as you pushed the long metal rod deeper.
“Mmph, fucking hell!” The blond growled out between clenched teeth and you shot a glare at the blond when he spat the spit-soaked fabric out of his mouth with a harsh laugh, the weak grin he had plastered on his face twisting into a grimace after a particularly rough jab. “You ever think about switching careers? Because your bedside manner makes me think you'd make a great dentist. You've already got the sadism part down.”
“I always thought I'd make a pretty good butcher personally.” You shot back without even bothering to look away from the bloodied mess in front of you, your lips pressing into a thin line of concentration as you pulled the rod out a bit in order to readjust the angle before slowly pushing it back in.
“Jesus Christ. If you –ah– if you pull this off without killing me, I'll buy you a damn gift basket. Or a card. Take your pick.” Leon promised roughly, the blond flashing you a pained smirk when he noticed you glance at him from out of the corner of your eye. “But if you keep treating me like a goddamn pincushion, I'm telling command you're the reason I always go through my painkillers so fast.”
“You're such a baby.” You muttered, your eyes narrowing for a brief moment when the tip of the forceps scraped over something metal, before a wide grin spread across your face.
You placed a steadying hand on Leon’s thigh to keep him from flinching and fucking up all the progress you’d made as you shifted closer –all but straddling the blond's thigh– wasting no time latching onto the slippery metal with the little teeth at the end of the rod in order to carefully extract the elusive bullet.
You held it up in front of you as soon as you dragged it out, turning it this way and that in order to examine the projectile, before blowing out a near silent breath of relief once you determined that it was –thankfully– still intact so you wouldn't have to worry about any fragments, which would’ve definitely complicated matters and further hindered Leon’s recovery.
“There. Done.” You said as you unceremoniously dropped the bullet and bloodied forceps into the cracked bowl you'd found in the dilapidated kitchen of the safehouse that you and your chatty partner were currently occupying.
You moved toward the two medkits you’d ripped apart for supplies so that you could begin the tedious process of cleaning and bandaging the wound.
“Finally. I was about ready to brain myself against the wall if it meant getting a break from being carved up like a piece of meat.” Leon grumbled as he watched you grab some alcohol wipes as well as the small bottle of vodka you’d used to sterilize the bullet forceps before using it, the blond remaining tense as you collected what you’d need and turned your attention back to his shoulder.
“Hilarious.” You deadpanned as you placed a hand on Leon’s chest in order to push him back into the dining chair as you leaned closer to get a better look at the wound, ignoring the choked off sound that Leon made when he was shoved against the slat backrest.
You moved to pull away but paused when Leon’s hand darted out to grab your wrist before you could finish the movement, his face screwing up in pain as he exhaled shakily, his grasp loose enough that you could infer that he was just floundering for a way to ground himself as opposed to trying to restrain you or something. So, in a moment of weakness, you allowed his touch to linger without a word of protest, giving him a much needed moment to pull himself together.
You kept your hand pressed flat against his chest for a moment, counting his abnormally fast heart beats and his purposefully measured breathing until his body calmed, the blond releasing your wrist with a look you would describe as ‘sheepish’ if you didn’t know any better.
“You know, I don't even know why I put up with you.” Leon sighed while pouting like a petulant toddler as he slumped back into the chair, obediently relaxing his left arm as much as he was able to when you tapped your finger against his bicep twice in a wordless command.
“You mean you don’t keep me around for my sheer animal magnetism? I’m shocked.” You snorted sarcastically as you ripped open a new packet of alcohol wipes and began carefully wiping at the drying blood surrounding the bullet hole.
“Oh, right… your animal magnetism.” He replied dryly, wincing when the cool wipe brushed across a particularly sensitive area. “How could I forget?” Leon scoffed, his bright eyes watching you as you tossed the blood covered wipe into into the trash and opened a new one, slowly but efficiently mopping up the mess until the swollen, irritated skin surrounding the wound was visible
“Alright. I got good news and bad news.” You stated as you threw away the fifth and final alcohol wipe you’d opened, rubbing your hands down with some clean water from your own bottle and shaking them dry before dumping the remainder of the vodka shooter onto your hands in preparation for what you had to do next.
“Gimme the bad news first.” Leon cut in before you could finish your thought and you rolled your eyes but still ended up humoring him.
“Bad news is that you’re gonna die if we don’t slow the bleeding down, quickly. The fat layer under the skin is exposed and I don’t have any dissolvable stitches on me, so I can’t properly close it. Oh, and it’s pretty much a guarantee that it’s going to get infected.” You listed off your concerns as you dug the combat pill pack out of the emergency supplies that the safehouse was stocked with, quickly locating the bottles of Moxifloxacin and Meloxicam you were looking for and shaking out one of each into your palm.
“Great. And the good news?” Leon asked as he took the offered dull red and bright yellow pills with his good hand, popping them into his mouth and washing them down with a few long pulls from the bottled water that you also handed him.
“Good news is that your injury is located at a junctional area which, while not ideal because I can’t use a tourniquet, I can pack it with gauze before wrapping it up to make sure you won’t bleed out on me. It should hold up until we can get you to a hospital for proper treatment.” You said as you set all the supplies you’d need on the dining table, picking up the bottle containing a plain packing strip and breaking the seal before shifting closer to Leon, kicking his legs further apart so you could step between his thighs.
“Sounds fun. Come on, let's get this over with.” Leon sighed, already sounding resigned as he shifted around in his seat, the blond only settling once you braced your knee against the chair between his legs, holding carefully still as you positioned the end of the strip against the hole in his shoulder.
You glanced up from his wound in order to check if he was ready, doing a rapid double take when you caught the dazed look on his face as he stared up at you looming over him, his piercing blue eyes half-lidded.
You initially thought that shock was finally setting in –which would make sense with all the excitement– but then you shifted your weight and you were made painfully aware of just how intimate your current position was. Your eyes widened as you watched Leon’s pupils dilate in real time, the blond staring up at you like you were a piece of art to be admired, able to practically hear his thoughts enter the gutter with an audible clatter with how close you were standing.
“You know… for someone who claims to only tolerate me, you sure do have a soft spot for patching me up. You always seem to volunteer to be the one to play nurse when I’m injured.” Leon said, a hint of amusement creeping in his voice, and you rolled your eyes before abruptly beginning to push the cotton strip deep inside his bullet wound with your thumbs.
Leon grit his teeth and let out a sharp, guttural cry as he threw his head back, the tendons in his neck straining with the need to move, to get out from under your steady hands and away from the pain.
“Well, if we're going by that logic, you seem to enjoy playing patient with how often you get injured.” You shot back without pausing, your eyes flicking up from Leon’s shoulder once to glance at his face before dropping back down when you made sure that he was still conscious.
“God damn it.” He cursed, panting and groaning in a way that sounded far too suggestive, the sounds coming out of him as you methodically packed the wound more fit for the bedroom. "You could have warned me, you bastard.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” You responded as you reached the end of the roll, keeping firm pressure on the raw wound to hold everything in place as you snatched the gauze pad off the dining table, tearing the wrapper off one-handed and placing it over the injury site. “Hold this.” You commanded firmly, impatiently waiting until Leon raised his good hand and put his palm over the gauze before letting go in order to reach for the roll of bandages.
“If this is your idea of fun, I’d hate to see what you’d do on a date.” Leon grumbled, his brows furrowing as he watched you open the packaging and begin meticulously dressing his wound, the blond moving his hand out of the way without you even having to ask as you wrapped the strip across his chest and around his shoulder repeatedly before tucking the end under the edge of the bandages to keep them from unraveling.
“Is that an attempt at asking me out, Kennedy? Zero out of ten, no way you’re getting any with weak pick up lines like that.” You quipped, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling when his eyebrows shot up to his forehead in surprise, his expression rapidly flicking through several different emotions before finally settling on embarrassment, his cheeks turning a bright, flustered red.
“I’m not– I wasn’t–” Leon spluttered as you stepped away and grabbed your own canteen in order to wash your hands over the bowl containing the bullet you’d pulled out of Leon –along with the forceps you’d used to do so– before mentally plotting where to begin cleaning up the mess you’d left on the table, as well as the ground surrounding the chair, while treating the blond.
“Uh-huh.” You said dismissively as you repacked the two well-stocked medkits –both the one you always brought with you when you were sent out on a mission, especially if Leon was your partner, and the spare that you’d found already in the safehouse– putting everything back into its rightful place. “You’re not exactly subtle, you know.” You continued casually, shutting the kits and securing them with a click before glancing at Leon, who had stiffened in his chair.
“Projecting much? I’m not the one with a staring problem.” Leon snapped back defensively, his tone holding a surprising amount of vitriol, and you paused in the middle of turning to put your medkit back into your bag to shoot him a dirty look.
“Hypocrite.” You hissed as you pulled a spare shirt from the bag you were crouched over and aggressively threw it at his bare chest.
“Brute.” Leon immediately snapped in response as he caught it and shrugged it on, his angry movements slowing when he had to maneuver his bad arm through the corresponding hole.
“Whatever.” You sneered, shooting him one last glare before pivoting in order to follow through on shoving your medkit back into your duffel, giving yourself a much needed moment to calm the petty anger that had sparked in your chest at Leon’s rude response to your harmless teasing. Talk about an overreaction…
You glanced back at Leon once you were feeling a little less like biting his head off, only to have the irritation that you had spent the last several minutes breathing through make a swift return when you saw him poking curiously at his injured shoulder, wincing when he occasionally hit a sore spot.
You immediately stalked back over to him and smacked his hand, Leon snatching his stinging appendage away from the bandages like he was worried that you would break his fingers if he didn’t move fast enough, looking all to the world like a scolded child who’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t have as he placed his hands into his lap.
“Don’t do that.” You warned with a disapproving frown, eyes scanning over the wrappings to make sure that he wasn’t about to start bleeding through his bandages. “And you know what –while we're on the topic of what not to do– no removing the bandages, no getting wet, no lifting heavy objects and no strenuous activities. That includes jacking off by the way.” You lifted a finger for each rule you listed, staring Leon down to make sure he knew you were being dead serious.
The absolute last thing you needed was for him to permanently mess up his shoulder because he did something stupid.
“How charming, I’m swooning.” Leon said as he placed his hands onto his knees and pushed to his feet, his face blanching of all color and leaving him looking more like the B.O.W’s that the two of you fought on the regular once he was fully upright.
Thankfully for Leon, you were already reaching for him when he took a stumbling step forward, so you managed to steady him with a hand on his hip, wrapping your other one around his forearm before he had the opportunity to take a nasty spill.
“That’ll be the hypovolemia. Obviously.” You responded sarcastically almost on autopilot, the concern you were feeling at seeing the guy you’d personally witnessed walk off insane blows –ones he for all intents and purposes definitely shouldn’t have– struggling to just stand seeping into your voice without your say-so and taking the bite out of your words as you watched him sway in place like a drunk.
Your hands lingered on Leon even after he had regained his balance, your fingers absentmindedly flexing around his impressive bicep as your eyes ran up and down his body, eagerly taking in how the shirt hugged every dip and curve of his muscles.
Leon cleared his throat and you blinked rapidly –feeling like you were coming out of a daze– and your gaze darted away from his chest and back up to his face, your eyes widening as your cheeks heated when you saw that he was wearing his signature cocky smirk as he watched you all but feel him up.
You jerked your hands away from him like you’d been burned and quickly turned away so your back was facing him, ignoring the soft laugh that Leon breathed out at your expense in favor of sweeping the last of the discarded wrappers littering the table into the trash can.
"It's a good thing you're pretty, cause you're dumber than a box of rocks. Standing up so quickly when you've lost as much blood as you have. Moron." You grumbled to yourself in an attempt to hide how rattled you were at getting caught ogling Leon fucking Kennedy of all people, who was the most insufferable, egotistical, attractive, loyal… protective…
You quickly shook your head before your thoughts could derail completely, as if that would get rid of the little voice in the back of your head –the one that was gradually getting louder every time you worked with him– that pointed out all of Leon’s positive qualities, which far outnumbered the less favorable aspects of his personality.
“You sure know how to sweet-talk a guy.” Leon said with his usual level of smugness, the grin that you just knew he was sporting audible in his voice, and you valiantly resisted the ever-growing urge to either punch him in his mouth or kiss him stupid in order to wipe that infuriating look off his unfairly handsome face.
“Go lay down, Kennedy. Get some rest.” You sighed –sweeping your gaze across the dining room to make sure you didn’t miss any wayward pieces of trash– before checking your side arm and dragging one of the three intact wooden chairs over to the front window in order to sit down. It gave you a nice view of the snowy front yard and the long, winding driveway that led up to the cabin which gave you the advantage of spotting anyone who tried to approach the safehouse before they even knew you were there.
“Fine, fine.” Leon muttered, the blond giving an exaggerated sigh as he ran his hand through his hair before turning to unsteadily make his way over to the ratty couch that was shoved into the corner of the main room and –in a move that was very uncharacteristic of him– gingerly lower himself down onto the shitty cushions. “But don’t blame me if I get bored and start bothering you again in five minutes.” Leon added after he’d carefully stretched out across the couch, taking up almost the entire length.
“Goodnight.” You said pointedly without looking away from the window, watching as the previously peaceful snowfall outside gradually picked up into a full-blown blizzard, your gaze straying from the white tundra outside when you caught sight of Leon in the reflection of the glass.
He had unholstered his own sidearm and rested his hands –gun and all– over his sternum and closed his eyes, the blond only managing to remain still for a few seconds before he was wiggling around again, the telltale shift of fabric accompanying the movement, as he attempted to get comfortable on the narrow couch.
You waited him out, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the potent combination of the drugs, pain and blood loss caught up with him and knocked him the fuck out, and you were proven right when you heard his breathing even out into sleep only a few minutes later.
Finally.
Leon was good at hiding it, but he desperately needed the rest –especially when he was in as rough shape as he was right now– and you were determined to make sure that he got it, partly because he needed to heal but mostly because you didn’t feel like listening to him whine about how he needed his beauty sleep for the next several hours if he was woken up too soon.
You watched him for a long, indulgent moment –noting how incredibly young he looked when he didn’t have his guard up– before sighing to yourself and refocusing your attention back onto the winter wonderland outside in order to take up first watch, letting the sound of Leon’s deep breaths and the faint whistle of the wind fill the peaceful silence.