riotrants: result of this poll! this is part one, and i do predict that the second part will definitely be more suggestive and a little darker in terms of like obsession...but like reader is into it so is it really bad?? sorry if this is bad but i think its cute...and i honestly think i had too many ideas for one fic? maybe I was a little courageous and i tried to do too much?? i dunno
leon kennedy was no stranger to the woes and horrors of life.
the years had not been kind to him—outbreaks, infections, wars, plagues, lethal pursuers, countless missions and protection details, a certain grief and displeasure for life—so, naturally, the universe's biggest joke was that he could no longer die.
leon was fifty-one.
he was fifty-one when he was bitten by a bloodthirsty creature, left to die in an alleyway. his bullets did little against the regenerating being, the impenetrable shield of skin that bullets and blades simply tickled.
he used to love the warmth of sunlight on his skin, now it makes him curl in on himself in discomfort. he cannot enter a room without invitation, his heart remains quiet in his chest, he ran cold—but he did not let his new identity, his unfamiliar lifestyle deter him.
he used it, contorted it into something he could use for good.
his strength for conquering foes, his speed for evasion and lightning fast combos, his perfect vision and hearing for scoping out areas and gathering intel.
no one questioned it. no one dared ask how leon had acquired half the information he did, they simply remained in the unknown. their blindness to his methods was not fully an oversight, not a mere glance at his capabilities with no further interrogation—an oddity they could not be bothered to investigate.
rather, it was more the fact that leon was practically a ghost.
he moved in and out of rooms with predatory stealth, he smiled when appropriate and left conversations as smoothly as a man with the intensity of disarming a nuclear weapon could, but there was one variable his clientele always noticed.
leon spent hours in the medical ward.
he'd drop a file on the desk, and brush past the questioning gazes and duck into the medical wing of the establishment.
behind the swinging doors, they could not witness how the cuts that leon's body had long healed slowly began to split open.
the blood in his veins was not his, neither was the blood that trickled from the wounds he forced to reappear.
he stepped into the clinic, hand poised at the rather large gash on his side as if it were hurting, and his lips quirked into a tiny smile.
there you were.
sat at your desk, files of patients stacked a mile high on your desk as you scribbled down medications and prescriptions that needed to be filled. you perked up at the sound of shuffling, your eyes widening at the sight of him.
he heard the elevation in your heart rate, the way your body had begun to pump blood far quicker at the mere sight of him. he heard the soft tremors in your breathing as you stood, hands reaching for the cart of supplies.
"mr. kennedy," you greeted, voice nervous.
"sweetheart," he mused, tone deep and utterly fond, "how many times have i told you to call me leon?" you ignored him, pointing at the uncomfortable space for him to sit on. he sat, unashamed in the way he watched you gently cut his torn and bloodied clothes off him.
"not so bad today," you murmured, gloved fingers tracing down the line of his arm to examine his injuries. he allowed you to lift the limb, and he saw your face fall at the sight of the gash, "i take it back...i know you don't usually, but, um, we really ought to get your blood tested—“
he chuckled, shaking his head, "i'm alright. just need my favorite nurse to patch me up, yeah?" and to be honest, he had no idea what all you would have found if he had agreed to get his blood tested.
animal enzymes, low iron, high sugar...
you didn't need to worry about that.
he felt the soft press of your fingertips as the needle pierced his skin, and he did his best to suppress his healing factor. he loved the way your brows knit together as you worked, the warmth that radiated off your face as more of his skin was revealed. he could tell you wanted to spark conversation, to make the awkwardness you were feeling dissipate, but he was perfectly content like this.
your kind hands patching him up, and the worried glint that intensified in your pretty irises the more blood you cleaned up.
but his peace was swiftly disturbed.
his eyes narrowed at the gauze that peeked from under the collar of your scrubs, "what happened?" you paused, and leon immediately picked up on the shift in your breathing. you were uncomfortable.
"nothing you need to worry about," you settled on with a tiny, weak smile as you tied off his stitches. you slid off the gloves, dropping them into the biohazard bin as you watched him closely, "i'll send you some painkillers and ointment to the pharmacy—“ before you could step back to your desk, leon's hand clasped around your wrist.
this thumb brushed soothingly against the fabric of the long sleeve you wore beneath your scrubs, slipping it under the hem around your wrist to press against your pulse.
"i know when you're lying, sweetheart. did someone get handsy with you?"
you were flustered beyond belief when he rose to his full height, eyes still connected with yours. you looked away, suddenly interested in the crack on the tile that maintenance still had yet to fix. instantly, his other hand lifted to direct your face back to him, and he saw the way your lips pressed together in a fit of nerves.
"tell me," he whispered, tilting his face closer, "you know you can tell me anything, honey."
your hands lifted to grip his wrist, "just...just a patient that, um..."
leon waited, patient as always.
"he was mad i wouldn't refill his pain medicine," you quietly recalled, "he sells them to other people on the street, and he...he tried to—“
"what's his name?"
you gave him a look, glossy eyes and quivering lips, "i can't tell you." he nodded once, he understood that. it just meant he would have to find out himself. he lowered his hand from your jaw, but he let you continue to hold it. after all, it had been the most affectionate you'd been in a while. you picked at his watch as he hooked a finger into the collar of your scrubs. he carefully pulled the fabric to the side, and he frowned at the large area the gauze covered.
"what did he use?" he asked then, feeling the way you shivered at his cold finger tracing the edge of it, "you can tell me that."
you nodded towards your desk, and he followed. leon saw the scalpel that was in a bag, and it was still covered in your blood.
"i need to change the dressing," you muttered, trying to pull away from him. leon kept you still, gaze meeting yours once more, "may i help you?" you looked a little surprised, and it made him smile.
"what? medics need care, too."
"not from patients, usually," you squirmed free, assembling the items you would need. leon watched you closely, the way your hands paused at the hem of your scrubs, the nervous glance over your shoulder. "want me to close my eyes?" he smirked at your flinch, "you cut my clothes off, sweetheart. it's only fair you let me help."
it was true. leon was only in the tank top he'd worn under his gear, you'd cut off the rest of his upper layers.
"okay," you pulled the top over your head.
the thin long sleeve you wore was accessible, and it was incredibly easy to maneuver. you felt the chill of his palms as they slid over your shoulder blades, delicately turning you to face him. he pried the gauze from your skin, careful where the tape seemed to cling a little more than in other spots. the area was clean, bloody where the scalpel had dug deep, and he deeply exhaled, a breath that barely quelled his rage.
your blood smelled sweet, just like the rest of you.
thankfully, leon had years of endurance and withstanding temptation under his belt. in this moment, he would sooner kiss you than he would sink his fangs into the fragile skin of your throat.
"he did a number on you, baby," he grumbled, and he bit back a smile at the very sudden increase in your heart rate. it hadn't quite slowed down since his initial appearance, but it certainly hadn't spiked that high. he wondered then what it would be like, you by his side until forever ends.
you kept your head turned away as he worked, the gentle smear of ointment and the cautious placement of gauze and tape. your cheeks felt permanently hot, and the weight of his gaze made your stomach churn and your hands shake.
you squeaked when his face neared your chest, and his hands found your waist to stabilize you. his lips pressed sweetly against the gauze, and he pulled away to boyishly smile at you, "kissed it better for you, sweetheart."
you slid your scrub shirt back on, and shy little smile playing on your lips. you parted them to reply when the door slammed open. your smile fell, gaze hardening at the amount of blood that spilled on the tiles. leon collected his items, sending you a wink on his way out. you smiled internally, utterly ready to scream about that later—but right now, you had a dying woman on your table, and she was more important than your little crush.
leon left the building, the soft crinkle of the bloodied gauze in his pocket the only sound. he slid onto his motorcycle, securing the helmet over his head and smiling. his fingers wrapped around the handles, kicking up the post and zipping away.
he'd be back tomorrow. he knew he would.
you did, too.
naturally, he was upset by the interruption, but leon was mature. he understood that things happen, and he was more than happy to step away to let you work. you loved helping those in need, and that was something he deeply admired about you.
the way you'd smile warmly at those on the streets, entering a nearby cafe to order as many coffees and hot chocolates as possible for the ones that lived on the sidewalks and in alleys.
the taste of the gauze proved something he already knew—
you were sweet. inside and out.
leon's love and affection was overwhelming, he understood that. you were terribly shy and remarkably easy to fluster, so he wanted to take his time. he loved seeing the red that kissed the tips of your ears, the anxious twisting of your necklace, your bouncing knee he so badly wanted to plant his hand on. he wanted to soothe you, to cater to you, to hold you, to love you.
to keep you.
