"now that daddy's back home, i think he should be the one to read you your bed time story" your kid's eyes light up with excitement as his dad takes him on his arms, carrying him to bed. your son waves from above his dad's shoulder towards you, who waving back, smile towards the domestic scene your husband completed with his comeback. It feels like a dream to have him home, safe. to find him prepping breakfast when you wake up, to see his jacket on the entrance, his keys next to yours. Leon turns around slightly, winking in your direction, playful, even when he looks so tired. he's been home for less than a week, and didn't get a full night of proper sleep, chased by nightmares.
"his favorite is aladdin" you remind him. he raises a brow, before giving you a weak side smile, tired eyes focused on yours.
"i know plenty of tales, doll. don't worry."
your husband disappears inside your son's bedroom, the faintly light of his moon shaped lamp letting you see how delicately he leaves the kid on his bed. then, he sits on the chair by his side, and taking no book, he starts to speak.
"there was once a far, far land, full of mist and crows, cold and rainy, where a top agent was left." you smile, arching your brows. you already know which tale he is telling your son. "that agent, a really cool dude, if you ask me-" your husband gets interrupted by you son's laugh, who also caught who's that top agent left in Spain. "-only had one mission, but it was the most important one. saving the daughter of the president, no less. i bet he was nervous all the way to the town." you quietly leave towards the living room, your husband's voice getting lower and lower, until you barely hear him. once there, you water the plants, blow the candles and prepare your son's backpack for school. it's not long until you hear the silent -very, very silent- steps of Leon, the door of the bedroom closing, and his sigh when he hugs you from behind. you let go everything in your hands, caressing his arms, resting around your hips, and his head is buried on your neck. you stay silent for some seconds, just happy to have each other close again. his heart races against your back and his smell makes you feel like your home is complete again. he sighs slowly, tickling you.
"i've missed you, and i've missed him." he whispers. you let your head rest against his chest. tears don't let you speak, as they get stuck on your throat. lovingly, you squeeze his hand, in a silent way of telling him how much you've missed him, and how much you needed him back. time passes by slower hugged by him, none of you making a sound, none moving, as if by breaking this peace, he'll be gone again.
"he's asleep?" you ask, in a whisper, minutes later. he hums near your ear. you turn around between his arms. his eyes - full of love, of trust, of tenderness - look back at you. your fingers caress slowly his bags under his eyes, before he presses his lips against yours.
"let's go to bed, my love"
that night, he doesn't dream about spain. he doesn't dream about the monsters. he sleeps peacefully, pulling your body against his and letting himself find comfort in your warmth.
-> cw: sfw fluff, teeny bit of angst, blood mention
-> a/n: this was supposed to be relatively short but it got kinda long real fast oops!
growing up with leon kennedy:
you’re a kid, neighbors and childhood best friends with leon. your parents are old friends, happy that you two get along so well - you keep each other busy while they catch up over drinks in the living room. leon always lets you play with his favorite toys when you’re together. most nights like these you end up curled next to him, bundled under blankets on the couch, your parents aww-ing at the sight.
you’re twelve, and leon’s family moves away somewhere across the country, but for a kid it may as well be another planet. the both of you try not to make a big deal out of it; you’re awkward preteens after all. have a nice life, I guess, he mutters to you while unable to meet your stare. you tell him you’ll always miss him, and that one day you hope he’ll come find you. that night you cry at the loss of your best friend, and a selfish part of you hopes he does too.
you’re eighteen, and starting the second semester of your first year of college. things have been going really well! you feel like you’ve got a good handle on your life at school. at least, until you’re waiting outside to go into class and hear someone say your name incredulously. it takes you a minute to recognize him now that he’s so much older, but it’s unmistakably leon. you sit next to each other in class, decide to get lunch and catch up.
you’re nineteen, and it’s the summer before junior year. you and leon both stayed on campus for summer research programs, now back into the easy rhythm of friendship you once had. it’s a bit different now, though, since you’re still getting used to his mannerisms as an adult. you drink together at parties and run away from campus police when they show up - leon has helped you escape through dorm windows more times than you can count, lifting you with ease now that he’s filled out a bit. your friends tease you, asking if you two went off to get some alone time, but you brush them off a little too quickly. he’s just my friend, you say with a frustrating blush on your cheeks.
you’re twenty, finishing up junior year, and you and leon have been dating for eight months. it happened rather unceremoniously - you were both seated in his room, on his bed doing homework together with near-empty plastic cups of alcohol on the bedside table. he’d moved dangerously close to you to get a better look at what you’d written, and when you looked up at him he kissed you. dating leon was easy, comfortable, especially now that you didn’t have to keep denying what you’d been feeling for so long. you think you love him, and dream about life with leon after graduation.
you’re twenty-one and just walked the stage to accept your college diploma, smiling in your parents’ arms. you really did love leon, but as he’d gotten a bit older, become more aware of just how wanted he was, he’d changed for the worse. you finally called it quits last fall - leon had chased after you, storming out of a party where you’d watched him disappear into the bathroom with someone. come on, babe, he’d said, it was just one kiss. it didn’t mean anything, I swear…
you’re thirty, and driving home from work after a particularly stressful day. it’s pouring rain outside, and you blink the exhaustion from your eyes. you never even see the car coming - they were drunk, ran a red light, and completely wrecked your car. when you come to you’re being wheeled into an ambulance. a paramedic is gently wiping the blood from your face and sticking needles into you, telling you that you’re going to be alright. you think you must be hallucinating because he looks and sounds exactly like leon, but a bit older than you remember. he notices you staring a little too hard before his eyes grow wide in recognition: oh my god, he says in shock. the other paramedic asks him what’s wrong, but you already feel yourself slipping back into unconsciousness. all you hear is his panicked voice say, that’s my best friend.
you think you’re thirty, at least that’s what you answer when a doctor shines a light into your eyes after you wake up in a hospital bed. he tells you that you’ve been in a coma for a week, and that you very nearly could have died. before he leaves he makes a comment about your boyfriend, or something - wait, did you somehow forget that you had a boyfriend? you see the doctor speak with someone outside, and leon comes rushing in, his eyes wide as if he’s seen a ghost. he stops beside your bed looking quite hesitant, and you don’t really know why but you give him a weak smile and wave, the best you can really muster right now.
“you’re not… my boyfriend, are you?” it sounds so stupid as it comes out of your mouth, but you have to be sure after what the doctor said. leon’s brow furrows a bit.
“haven’t been that for a while. are you sure everything’s alright up there?” his voice is much deeper now - it’s got the gruffness of a grown man, but still soft enough to make you feel warm inside. you can’t help but blush.
“the doctor said you were, sorry.” you’ve got quite the sheepish grin. not exactly the best way to get reacquainted with your ex. although, that’s not really what leon is - he still feels like your old friend.
leon hesitates. “I… I really thought you were going to die that night. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been coming every day to check on you. just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
you talk for as long as your hoarse voice lets you, and even then you strain against it just so you can keep going. at some point leon gets solemn, now seated in a pulled-up chair next to your bed.
”I’m so sorry for how things ended between us. I was a real asshole. you don’t deserve that.” his eyes feel like they’re staring straight into your soul, and you feel that he means it. there’s no sense of expectation from the admission. it sounds like it’s something he’s been meaning to get off of his chest for a long while.
eventually you fall asleep, feeling content knowing someone else is there to watch over you.
you’ve just turned thirty-one, and you open your door to find leon holding balloons and your favorite cake. it’s been a few months since you got out of the hospital and leon’s been there helping every step of the way. neither of you is really sure what exactly you two are, but that’s okay. you’re not in a rush, and it’s almost endearing getting to know him all over again. he holds your hand while you sit and watch tv together. it’s nice. it feels like home.
you’re thirty-five, and leon’s kneeling in front of you, ring in hand. you’re my best friend. you always have been, he says with tears glistening in his eyes, blond hair cascading around his face. please do me the honor of spending the rest of my life with you. tears of your own cloud your vision and you haul him up, smiling through your sobs of yes, yes, of course. I love you so much, leon. he beams and slides the ring on your finger with shaky hands. you get married soon after.
you’re forty, and life is never perfect. you and leon disagree on stupid, small things but always come together in the end with apologies and hungry kisses. every night leon tells you just how lucky he is to call you his. you savor the sound of it in your ears, full of warmth and affection.
it doesn’t matter how old you are. the spark has never left; it simply changes as time goes on. leon has kept you safe ever since he saved you that night long ago - he even promised so in his wedding vows to you. he never stops loving you, dedicating himself to you just as you do to him. one special night, after lovingly taking you to bed, he divulges something to you: when he was twelve, he swore he’d come find you just like you asked. in college, he thought that he’d ruined his chance.
what I realized when I saw you in that ambulance, he whispers to you in the dark, was that no matter what happens, in this life or the next-
warnings: wounds, blood, mentions of dead animals, mentions of dead bodies, mentions of kidnapping, hint at religious rituals, self blaming. i'm almost finishing re4r and i NEEDED to write for him :D
shots. that's what wakes you up.
you barely remember what happened, or why your back rests in a bloody, uncomfortable stone table, aching from all the hours and cold nights you've possibly spent there. the crows above your head caw unceasingly and your eyes feel heavy, your body numb. your clothes are wet, tight against your body, dyed with blood, though you're not sure if it's yours. shots are getting closer, and even when fear wants you to react, your legs are unable to move. maybe you don't fear them. maybe they're the only way to escape this kinda hell you've been trapped in. it's been long since you got kidnapped, long since you saw him.
he protected you, even with his own life. you wanna throw up every time you remember how they hit him, how the pipe made him lose consciousness, and he fell by your side. the sudden memory of what happened feels like a punch on your stomach, and you feel sick.
shots stop suddenly, and everything around you gets buried in a strangely, creepy silence. no animals, no people, no guns. you can hear your own heartbeat, hammering against your head.
your eyes start to close again. the wind is gone as well , and you feel like resting a little. but you hear steps. close to you. way too close.
you sit in a quick movement, facing the noise, but your gaze blurs. fuck, it's been really long since you moved from that table. the diziness makes you fall back, but your back finds something warm, hard behind. you force your eyes to open, only to find blue, concerned ones focused on yours. ones you know too well. you feel how tears start to run down your cheeks.
"darling." that's the only thing he says. he brushes bloody hair away from your face, lovingly, sweetly. he came back for you, even when your destiny seems tightly tied to death. "doll. can you stand? please"
with big effort, you take air.
"what happened?" his arms find their way under your legs and against your back, before he lifts you up, pushing your body against his chest. you hiss in pain and he apologizes softly. near his neck, his shirt is stained with blood.
"i'll take you somewhere safe. we'll check your wounds."
during the walk, you try to stay awake, even when his warmth and the new sensation of protection are making you sleepy. he's thankful you can't see your surroundings. bodies, blood, piles of dead animals. this place is scary as fuck, full of death. and he can't forgive himself for fainting and leaving you alone. his steps are clear on the muddy floor, and the effort he's doing shows on the way he breathes, calm and controlled, but heavy. you can feel his body trembling due to effort and, probably, a lot of injures he's not going to tell you about.
"how's your head?" you murmur, half asleep. your hand tries to reach his wound, but you're too weak, letting it rest against his neck. he holds you closer, as if he was trying to protect you from the world, and he groans weakly when his leg fails.
"i'm alright, doll." he whispers. he leans to leave a kiss on your forehead, securing his grip on you. he keeps walking, quickly, but trying to keep you stable. thankfully, he found a house on his way to you, empty, where the ashes of a recent fire were still consuming on the fireplace. he revived fire, put some herbs to infuse and left to search you, knowing the day didn't have many hours, and hoping for not having to go back there and spend the night alone. he's sure he wouldn't be able to get a minute of sleep. he needed to find you - and, unexpectedly, he has you back in his arms earlier than he thought. he took extra time to prepare the house, covering windows and fixing holes, making sure the door could lock and resist to any attack. he opens without effort, before leaving you in a hard, used bed. but you can't complain. you watch him close behind his back, locking the door, and quickly getting back to the fireplace. he takes the infusion and gets close to you.
"careful, it's hot. drink a bit of this." his hand rests on your chin, angling your head, while the other pushes slowly the cup against your lips. he helps you to drink his tea. it's sweet, but has a bitter undertone. your throat thanks the tea. you leave half cup for him. he shakes his head, rejecting your idea, before speaking. "you need it way more than me."
"i'll be fine, Leon." your voice is a whisper while you push the cup towards him again, and he sighs, drinking from it. "we can prepare more." you try to move your body to the side, leaving room for him, but he kneels near the bed. he carries clean water and rags. "i boiled this earlier in case i got injured. it's clean. are you alright with taking the shirt off?" his kindness and empathy make him the perfect man, anything you could ever want. after you nod, he takes it off slowly, looking at all the bites, the cuts and the wounds. his eyes -those beautiful, icy eyes, that are always so controlled- shine with tears while he buries the rag on clean water. he hisses when his own wounds get wet.
he presses his lips together, guilt shinning in his blue eyes. "i'm so sorry i was late." you smile weakly when he presses a bite in your shoulder.
"you weren't late. i'm sorry you got hit." he smiles, this time. a distant church bell scares you, but you quickly erase it from your mind. you're safe -at least, as long as Leon is with you.
"i'm alright. i didn't think about it, even. all i could think about was finding you safe. when i woke up alone, in the middle of nothing... gods, i felt fear. fear for you. because i didn't know who took you and where. i thought i lost you forever." his voice sounds unstable as his hands tremble on your skin and tonight, for the first time, you saw him scared. after everything he lived, after all the difficult missions he completed, he was scared because of you. because of the thought of losing you. for the first time, you see him, not as the agent, but as the man. now that you look at him closely, dark circles are visible under his eyes, and he's way more pale that he used to. you caress his cheek sweetly, taking the rag away from his hands, and taking him into your arms, hugging. he sighs.
"thanks for rescuing me." he laughs softly, the noise covering the creak of the wood upstairs. parting from the hug, he looks at you, hand brushing away your tears and tired eyes focused on your lips. he leans on, lips slowly brushing yours, just a touch. your hand finds its natural way to his neck, getting him closer, until he's kneeling in the bed, next to your body. his lips taste like the tea he prepared. he hums, careful with touching any open wound in your body, before parting. he gives you one last peck. his eyes lock on yours, telling you everything he can't express with words now. his fingers caress your lips slowly, as if he wanted to learn their shape.
"we should sleep, now that the fire is on and we're warm." you whisper. he nods. "we can keep going with those wounds tomorrow. i'm too tired." your voice fails, and he finds his place on the bed, near you. he sighs, pulling you closer to him, smelling your hair. both of you are dirty, sweaty, but alive. and together. his hug feels safe, and he lets himself close his eyes and breath deeply. he has you, with him. he traces a bruise on your arm with his fingertips. his contact makes you sleepy. unexpectedly, his caresses on your arm get slower and slower, until they aren't more than his finger resting on your skin. looking up at his face, you find Leon asleep, lips half open, eyes closed. even when the fire is still on, you cover both of you with his blanket, long forgotten at the end of the bed, and you try to sleep, avoiding focusing on the strong wind and the wood creaking above you. you know you're still in danger, but with him by your side, you feel a little more safe.
