Chapter Text
“Wait, you’re that close to our home right now, Leon? You absolutely do have to come over, it’s been way too long since we’ve last met. Oh, and Chris is here! You have to meet Chris!”
“This could have been an email”, Chris mutters to himself while trying to clean whatever is possible to be cleaned in only a few hours. He did not expect any guests today. Scratch that, he didn’t expect his sister to call him before he had his first coffee that they were about to have a guest today.
The cup of coffee is still standing under the machine, cold and waiting for hours to be picked up. He doesn’t need coffee today, the announcement woke him up enough.
It’s not like their shared two-story house is unsanitary, it's simply… well, messy and unorganized. Chris is on and off missions for the BSAA, and sometimes he wonders if Claire is only at home to raid the fridge and leave again. She had been picking up her studies again, and spent a lot of nights at the dormitory there, as it took over an hour to drive home.
Leaving the task of cleaning to nobody other than Chris Redfield - at least until Claire is home. He tries his best to keep his attention focused on the most important things - namely the kitchen and the bathroom - but is distracted here and there and over there. He sighs and sits down on the sofa that's still littered with blankets and pillows and half-empty bags of chips, his eyes on the half-empty suitcase from his previous mission and the quarter-empty duffle bag from the mission before.
There is a difference between staying focused while cleaning and staying focused when your head is about to be ripped off by a B.O.W. If you ignored the rate of survival, the second case is easier.
Maybe he should put a load into the washing machine before their guest arrives. Or maybe he should get back into the kitchen and empty the dishwasher. Claire had promised to buy a few things on her way home for a decent dinner, so it would be convenient to have a bunch of clean plates.
A sign comes over his lips, still not moving from the sofa. There had been no option for him to say no to his sister. Claire sounded excited on the phone, euphorically telling him at 6 a.m. that Leon was going to come over.
And there lies Chris’ issue. Leon. Leon S. Kennedy. Some ex-police-rookie, now part of the US government, his skills praised by everyone who knew him, a real pro at doing his stuff, prodigy of everything. At least that’s what it sounded like. And Chris is more than displeased to have dinner with a government dog. There are more than enough reasons why Chris left the Air Force and even more reasons why nobody ever should work for the government, especially after Racoon City.
However, this Leon S. Kennedy had saved Claire. Twice. Back in Racoon City and during an incident that would later be filed as “Code: Veronica”. And if he was honest with himself, Kennedy had saved Claire because she had been searching for him and that’s a terrible track-record. So it made sense that finally, six years after Claire and Kennedy had met for the first time, he will meet the man himself and simply say “Thanks”.
Nobody could have expected that it has to be today when he is absolutely not ready for it.
—
It’s been a long week for Leon, if he was going into complain-mode, he’d even say it was a 14-day-long week without any breaks except the few hours of sleep he got between late-night restaurant stays and early meetings. He sighs, putting his head against the top of the steering wheel while waiting for the light to turn green.
Even a Leon S. Kennedy needs a break sometimes, even if everyone just assums he does not. So the free weekend is more than welcome.
Sometimes he wonders how politicians are able to do their job without throwing themselves out of the window on a regular basis. It is - and nobody can tell him something different - worse than fighting a B.O.W.
The president had attended a two week long summit conference, asking Leon to join him as one of the representatives for STRATCOM. While international talks about politics, economics, population and foreign affairs were covered by the media, there were other talks in private about Bioterrorism, about who is connected to whom, which organization had what information on which virus, etc. The privately funded BSAA had been founded only a year prior, nobody really knows how to deal with them.
Somebody honks behind Leon, making him realize that the light had turned green. No more thoughts about politics, he is about to visit his friend Claire.
And her brother.
Back in 1998, when Claire had been kidnapped by Umbrella, Leon had contacted Chris Redfield to tell him where to find his sister. According to the file the government had on Redfield, he used to be part of S.T.A.R.S. Before that, the Air Force, including a long list of all the trouble the older Redfield had caused - Leon still has to smile about it, even six years later.
Damn, six years already.
Six years since Racoon City and him losing his job as police rookie on the first day. Six years since he has met Claire Redfield for the first time. Leon starts feeling old while taking a turn into a calm neighborhood.
They had never met in Claire’s home, simply because they have both been too busy with life and surviving the horrors of university or deadly viruses. So this is going to be a first, including meeting her older brother.
Leon… is not thrilled. He met so many people the last few days, had shook hands with more or less important politicians. He doesn’t feel like meeting another person, because he knows it was going to be awkward. Claire had already hinted on the phone that her brother is long overdue with saying thanks.
Saying “Thanks for saving my sister. Twice.” and answering “Anyone would have done it, don’t mention it” takes about 5 seconds. Leaves several hours between arriving around noon and having dinner in the evening. Leaving several hours of having to deal with two Redfields.
But Leon knows he has no chance of saying no to Claire.
“This could have been an email”, Leon mutters to himself as the navigation system in his car announces that he has arrived at his destination.
—
“You said you’d just buy something easy to make”, Chris sighs, for the twentieth time of the day. He has put the cold cup of coffee into the microwave, where it’s still waiting to be picked up, cooling down again. At least he has turned on the washing machine and the dish washer, the kitchen looks a bit more empty, thankfully. Correction: It had looked more empty before Claire came in after her grocery shopping trip. The mountain of food explains why it took her so long to get back, leaving most of the cleaning to Chris.
“Yeah? I did, look.” From the mountain, Claire takes a few packages of tortellini and puts them right before Chris before searching for what seems to be the sauce ingredients. She looks very proud of her achievement and right now, Chris is only happy that she did not go for instant ramen. University is changing people, apparently.
“And what about all the other things you bought?” The other things are partly sweets, snacks, and even more snacks. He has a bad feeling about it.
“Oh shut it, what if Leon comes hungry, he’d might want some chips or - I don’t know - cake? I could make some coffee, too.”
So this is what his life is going to be, tea time with Leon S. Kennedy.
“Claire…”, he tries to reason with her but gives up as she glares at him. He knows his sister too well and knows that she’s nervous. Apparently this is going to be the first time Kennedy comes over, as far as he knows they used to meet in bars or cafés.
“He’s an adult, he can tell us what he wants. It will be fine.” Nothing will be fine but Chris doesn’t have to go down that path.
During him cleaning the house, he realized that he knows almost nothing about the government agent aside from the few things Claire told him: She’s unsure if he is blonde or dyes it blonde, he sometimes reminds her of a cat and he’s around her age.
That’s a whole lot. Not. Hell, Chris doesn’t even know what he looks like because apparently they can’t take pictures together because some governmental-stuff. Except that he might be blonde. In his mind, Kennedy is some kind of James Bond. Not the likeable traits of him: Arrogant, over-confident, probably a womanizier, manipulative. Claire would probably hate him if he ever put it to words. On the other hand, Kennedy did save Claire and Claire has been in this friendship-relationship for a while without coming home crying about him. Maybe, Chris just doesn’t feel like meeting somebody today.
He asks Claire to put the groceries into the cupboards and shelves, wherever she finds space, and excuses himself for a shower.
Just in time, as it seems, because as soon as he’s turned on the water, he hears the doorbell. Giving him a few minutes less having to deal with the person he’s about to meet.
—
He should have booked a room in a hotel and slept all day. If he was to lie down right here at the Redfield’s doorstep, he’d fall asleep. This is going to go perfectly.
They have a nice little house, Leon notices. Two stories, probably a small space in the roof, a garage with space for two cars at least. All painted in a warm yellow with red window frames and a red door. “Here live the Redfields!”, a terracotta sign at the door said, complete with a painting of flowers and a dog. Did Claire ever say they own a dog? He can’t remember. There seems to be a garden behind the house, but that’s only a guess.
He’s still wearing his dress pants and shirt, having said goodbye to a few of the politicians only this morning before checkout. The suit jacket is left in the car, it’s uncomfortable enough like this. Maybe he’ll have to ask if he could change in their bathroom later. If he’s not falling asleep.
Ringing the doorbell, he hears somebody moving in the house, and only a few seconds later, Claire Redfield with her gorgeous smile opens the door and hugs Leon tightly.
“You could make it here!”
Leon has to smile, a real smile for the first time in a few days. Does university keep people young or why does it feel like the same Claire he had met quite a few years ago. Maybe it isn’t that bad after all.
“Told you I’d make it. Here, for you and your brother.” He… should call her brother by his first name before meeting him, that would feel weird, right? Handing over a bottle of wine that he bought on the way here, he was hugged again.
“Jesus Christ, Leon, you didn’t have to. But that will probably go well with dinner, it is okay to drink this red wine with noodles, right? Do I have to cool it?”
Apparently, university still doesn’t teach shit about life.
“No, it’s fine like it is.” He steps into the house as Claire motions him to follow her, taking off his shoes in the small hallway.
So… this is where Claire lives. The entrance is littered with shoes for different seasons, some of them Claire’s size, the other ones obvious shoes for men, including heavy duty work boots that remind Leon a lot of his own.
He lifts his eyes from the entrance, he looks straight into the living room. The walls are covered in photo frames, some filled with photos, some with art and some with art obviously painted by kids. Pillows, and blankets neatly stacked on the armchair next to a big sofa, facing a big TV.
It’s always good in Leon’s line of work to know who he deals with, a quick overview of an area. Just figuring out if there’s a threat or a possible place to retreat to. Everything else doesn't matter. Yet, he finds himself hoping that he has some more time to just… look around, take in all the impressions of this room, because he probably could spend hours here.
But he gets dragged into the kitchen by Claire taking his hand and pulling him with her. “Do you want to drink something, coffee, tea, I’m sure Chris has some beer around.”
While beer sounds perfect, he should not raid another man’s beer storage without having said hi before. Usually saves a lot of trouble, as Leon has figured out.
The kitchen isn’t any better at all, the fridge covered in magnets from all over the world, postcards. Everything about the Redfield’s house screams personality, screams hominess.
“I’d go for some water. Your brother is not around?”
“Still in the shower, probably got out of bed too late this morning.” Claire fills a glass with water and sets it on the small bar-like area at the counter. “So tell me, how was your secret government-thing going?”
Leon grins at her. “Well, as you can guess, very secret-y.”
They talk about this and that, laughing about stuff that happened in the university. They hadn’t seen each other for almost a year but it still simply worked out, despite - or maybe because - their shared memories of Racoon City.
Leon is about to spill some beans about his life when he hears a door upstairs, then footsteps making their way down to the living room. He has almost forgotten about the older Redfield.
Who is now standing at the bottom of the stairs, wearing jeans and an olive-green shirt that hides nothing of the muscles of his broad chest, broad shoulders or arms. A bit taller than Leon, he guesses, short brown hair. The same warm eyes as Claire, the same warm smile.
Somebody could have warned Leon S. Kennedy that Chris Redfield is fucking attractive.
—
Chris could already hear them talk downstairs when he left the bathroom. He remembers the male voice slightly, back then when Kennedy had called him to inform him about his sister's whereabouts. Gotten more mature over the years or the connection had been shit, who knows.
Walking down the stairs, he notices the blonde hair first and he understands why Claire isn’t sure if he bleached his hair or not. And with every step, he sees more of that government agent until he’s at the end of the staircase and they stare at each other for a few seconds.
So. This is the person who saved his sister twice, the person he has only heard praise about. It felt… underwhelming in a good way? Going through his James-Bond-Alike list, from afar, he might just go and throw that list into the trash. Leon S. Kennedy is attractive, no way to deny that, and those eyes under the blonde bangs seem sharp and awake. If he was muscular, then the white shirt was hiding it well. Overall, a young man in his mid-twenties. Still, Chris feels an aura around the other man that tells him to take him serious, or he’d have a knife at his neck before he can count to three.
“Hi, you’re Leon Kennedy, right?” Chris tries. Of course this is Leon Kennedy but he's an expert in weapons, not social skills.
“Yes, that’s me. It’s nice to finally meet you, Chris, Claire has told me a lot about you.” Leon stands up and meets Chris halfway for a handshake that could probably break a few bones if Leon tried.
“Hah, I believe you when you say she did. I… thank you for saving her in Racoon City and for calling me back then, when she was kidnapped.”
“Anyone would have done it, don’t mention it. I’m glad she’s fine”, a soft smile comes over Leon’s lips.
And now would be a good time to just leave and do whatever he had planned for the day before Claire had called him. It’s been six years since that incident, what else was expected from him? Breaking down crying and thanking Kennedy for saving his baby sister? Not gonna happen.
“I let the two people with the least social skills into one room, we’re doomed.”, Claire sighs and throws her hands into the air.
Both men look at her, and for a second, Chris is sure that Leon thinks exactly the same: What were you expecting from us?
“I don’t know what adult men talk about when they’re in the same room! BBQ? Jobs? Favorite beer brand? Cars or something? The weather is also fine, for hell’s sake”, Claire acts all worked up and mad, but Chris can see the twinkle in her eyes. Good, at least her nervousness is gone.
Leon sighs next to him. “You could get a bit more creative with conversation options, that sounds incredibly sexist.”
“Then talk about your Love Life, your favorite makeup or soap opera. Here, Leon, that’s better?”
“Better.”
Chris can’t believe he has heard this conversation.
“Good, now, Chris, you tell me what you want to drink and you Leon tell me more about that stray cat you started feeding.”
So this becomes Chris afternoon: Them sitting at the bar in their kitchen, having some non-alcoholic drinks, and mostly Chris listening to Claire’s and Leon’s stories, mostly Claire, as too many of Leon’s answers were “Confidential, sorry”. It makes Chris wonder two things: 1) What the hell is Leon doing in his job besides shooting some B.O.W.s in the head. 2) Why are Leon and Claire not dating? It's a sudden thought when Claire reached over for Leon’s hair and ruffled it, telling him again that one day she’d find out if it’s bleached or not, their interactions looked so natural.
And Leon didn’t seem to be too bad of a character. A fool mouth with too many sarcastic remarks, that’s for sure but aside from that, he seems… decent, for the lack of a better word. Now that he has the time to look at Leon closer, he tries to figure out what make him so attractive. Something about Leon makes him pretty. He tries to think about what would define a pretty woman but no, nothing of that fits Leon.
Until Leon notices that Chris has been staring at him, looking him straight into his eyes, raising an eyebrow. Chris’ stomach does a funny jump before Leon looks away, listening to Claire’s ramble about bullshit tests, and maybe, yeah, those blue eyes might be one of the reasons Chris would call Leon pretty.
Maybe the day isn’t as bad as he would have thought it to become.
Suddenly, Claire receives a call and excuses herself to talk in another room in private, leaving only the two men.
“So…”, Leon starts, and Chris decides that this nice warm voice also adds to his weird list, “Claire has a lot to tell but what about you? Wanna go back to talking about favorite soap opera or jobs?”
Chris laughs and shakes his head. “Not the soap opera guy, sorry. Jobwise, I’d have thought that the government still tracks me quite nicely.”
Leon raises an eyebrow again, Chris can’t tell if it’s amused or not. “Sorry, didn’t look up your files before coming here. But it’s sure as hell not S.T.A.R.S. anymore.”
Definitely not S.T.A.R.S. anymore, Chris grimaces, Wesker and Irons can go fuck themselves with a chainsaw. “Heard about the BSAA?”
Leon’s eyes widen, then he drops his head on the table. “God, who would have thought the brother of my best friend is the reason for my sleepless nights. And not in a good way. Like, I know what you guys try to achieve but a lot of people I had to talk to in the last days don’t trust you guys.”
Chris feels like he has missed a part of a conversation at some point, until he remembers that Claire said something about a political summit a few cities away. “So people are already talking about us?”
“... who wouldn’t about a private paramilitary agency specializing in anti-bioterrorism? Please do not fuck this whole thing up, Redfield.”
As much as Chris wants to argue about the benefits of a non-governmental agency taking care of these kinds of mess, he kind of understands why Leon is concerned about this. And his reaction is quite amusing despite everything.
“Okay, then easier things. Favorite brand of beer?”
“I don’t care, Chris, whatever you have in your fridge right now?”
They do not talk about work for the rest of the day, which is nice for a change. When Jill visits or other people of his former squad, it’s always about work. And right now, despite both fighting bioterrorism, they don’t have to tell each other anything. They can’t talk about it. For a few hours, it does feel normal to talk about TV series, about pets, about favorite ice cream flavours. As if there were no B.O.W.s outside, no maniacs with too much time, money and research capacities to find a new aggressive virus. It feels weirdly easy with Leon sitting on the other side of the table, slight blush on his cheeks from the second can of beer.
Before they know it, it’s time to make dinner. Chris promises to cook, the other two can go and play Mario Kart, it seems like they still have a score to settle. It gives him some peace for a few minutes, the background music of the tracks partially covering the swear words Leon and Claire are throwing at each other. He really doesn’t understand why those two aren’t dating.
The peace lasts until the sauce is simmering on the stove and the water’s almost hot enough to throw in the tortellini, when he feels somebody pushing their head between Chris shoulder blades and hugging him from behind. Wait. Is that..
The groan that follows leaves no doubt that it’s Claire.
“Chris, he beat me again… How is he so good at Mario Kart?”, Claire wails and for a short moment, he’s feeling sorry for her. It’s a really short moment.
“Because maybe you suck at… ouch!”
“Idiot.” She huffs until Chris hugs his sister tightly.
“You’ll beat him one day, I’m sure, cuz you’re always impro— ouch, how was that wrong again?” He grins widely, and Claire’s anger doesn’t last for long.
“So, did you murder and bury Leon somewhere or how do I have to understand him missing in action?”
“He said the formal clothes will kill him if he stays in them five minutes longer, so he went to his car to get clothes and wants to change in the bathroom.”, Claire informs him while testing the sauce. “Chris? I’d offer him to sleep on the sofa, with the beer and the wine, he shouldn’t be driving and we have enough space so he doesn’t need a hotel.”
“Sure, why not?”, Chris shrugs his shoulders and dumps the noodles into the water.
“I don’t know, probably was worried you and somebody who works for the government just don’t click, and seriously, I’ve known Leon for a while, there are a lot of people who just can’t deal with him.”
“No, it’s fine. Leon is okay.”
“I’m passing the judgment of Chris Redfield, I should feel honored.” Hearing Leons voice so close behind him, Chris spins around and if it wasn’t for the wooden cooking spoon in his hands, he’d probably gone full attack mode.
The culprit is leaning against the counter with a boyish grin on his lips, having changed to tight black jeans and a dark blue shirt, and Chris can now fully confirm that Leon had done a great job hiding those muscles under the dress shirt before.
“For fuck’s sake, Leon, don’t sneak up on us like that.” Claire crosses her arms and stares at Leon for a while, Chris is just amazed how silent a person can be when moving. Yeah, it makes sense Claire keeps comparing him to a cat.
They fall back into a comfortable conversation, mostly about all the magnets and postcards on the fridge, the Redfields having a story or two about each single piece. Later, Chris gets praised over and over for the delicious food by a Leon, who seems to inhale plate after plate - Claire was not better. Another can of beer, an open bottle of wine. Claire brings out the snacks she’s been buying. And suddenly, it’s long past midnight.
They wish each other good night, the Redfields going into their own bedrooms, and Leon finds a comfortable position on the sofa.
—
The basement reeks of blood, noises all around him, they are close, Leon knows, but they can’t let them reach him. Half sneaking, half tumbling through the labyrinth that’s the basement of the Racoon City Police Department, he reaches a room only illuminated by a flickering light from above. Looking around, it’s not difficult to realize it the morgue. Better dead people than half-dead ones, Leon concludes, but he knows he has to look through each of the morgue coffins to find anything useful. He’s panting, the air is heavy with death and dread, decomposing bodies and those bodies that do not want to stay dead.
The first one, a corpse he can’t identify, wearing the RPD-uniform. Could have become his coworker if not for this tragedy.
The next one, as he pulls it out, the corpse starts moving and Leon has not choice but the put the last round of precious bullets into its head before it finally stops moving. Nothing. And he’s out of ammunition.
Despite his better judgement, he opens the next one, Claire Redfield, dead. A deep ugly bite on her shoulder. It shocks him less than it should.
The next one, Jack Krauser, his chest and arms deformed into an ugly mess of pulsing muscles, dead.
The next one, Sherry Birkins, dead. She looks so fragile, so young, her white summer dress drenched in blood.
Ada Wong, dead. Head cleanly cut off.
The last one opens on its own, revealing the corpse of Chris Redfield, blood around his mouth and a gaping hole where his heart, his lungs and every was supposed to be, leaving an empty ribcage, in its middle a diamond shaped key. As Leon tries to take it, Chris comes back to life, white eyes glaring at the rookie police officer, reaching up to Leons cheek, fingers wet and warm with fresh blood. Leon panics, he forgets how to breathe. This no, no this can’t be.
“You’re dreaming, Leon, wake up.”
He takes the knife, his last resort.
“Holy fuck, where did… Leon, wake up!”
Suddenly, he’s not in the morgue anymore. It doesn’t smell like blood anymore. It doesn’t sound like an Infected is right behind him.
But he’s still staring at Chris Redfield, a very alive version though. And he’s holding a knife against Chris’ throat.
“Shit…” Leon drops the knife, the sound of it clattering to the floor resonates in the dark living room. Right, he was at Chris’ and Claire’s home, they had invited him for dinner, he had finally met Claire’s brother and had decided to stay the night. A sober Leon would have never said yes to that.
“Fuck, I… I … shit. Chris, are you hurt?” Leon wishes there was more light to see if he did hurt the other man but it’s just too dark.
“Mentally scarred for the rest of my life, but my throat is doing fine. Didn’t think it was humanly possible to move that fast.” Chris stands up and sits down next to Leon on the sofa. “PTSD?”
Leon covers his face with his hands, trying to get rid of the last memories of his dream. It hadn’t been that bad in a while. “I guess you can call it like that… Sure you wanna sit next to a maniac who almost killed you?”
“Almost is an exaggeration. But where the hell did you get a knife from.” Chris looks down to the floor where it lies. “A combat knife.”
“Don’t tell me you’re not sleeping with a weapon under your pillow.”
Chris doesn’t answer and it’s enough of an answer for Leon. They sit in silence for a while. What time is it anyway? The clock above the kitchen counter probably would help if it wasn’t that dark. So… maybe 5 a.m.? “Did I wake you up?”
This time Chris answers. “No, I was just on the way into the kitchen, to get a glass of water. Forgot about you being here, otherwise I’d just drink from the tap in the bathroom.”
“Then, I’m keeping you awake?” Leon asks again.
“Don’t worry about that.”, he stand up and walks over to the kitchen. “Can I get you anything too?”
“Coffee would be nice.” Chris turns on the light above the counter just in time so Leon can see the raised eyebrow.
“Don’t think that coffee is helpful with falling asleep again. Claire has some teas around, I bet that would…”
“Coffee is fine, as long as your machine is quiet enough not to wake Claire.” Leon walks over to the kitchen too, sitting down on one of the barstools. He has no plan of going back to sleep again, 6 a.m. is his usual time to get up anyway. He can finally look at the clock too, it’s 4.46.
“She’d sleep through a truck driving through her bedroom, university is taking quite a toll on her.” With that, Chris turns on the coffee machine and soon the room is filled with the scent of coffee, chasing away the last memories of blood and dark basements.
Leon can look at Chris again, something he had done as often as he could the last evening. He had changed into more comfortable sleeping clothes, pjyama pants and a washed out shirt. Doesn’t change anything about his attractiveness, hell, he could probably wear an unicorn onesie and Leon would still be claiming that this man is sexy as hell. Claire really could have warned him.
He has hit a new low, hasn’t he? Not only is he his best friend’s brother, but Leon also knows that he’s going to have so much trouble with the BSAA that he shouldn’t even dare to let his brain think about options. Chris Redfield and any thought about him is strictly banned from his mind, at least he tries.
There’s a heavy silence between them again, combat knife still lying on the floor in the living room and Leon still shocked about himself. But Chris seems to take it better than, let’s say, an average person would take. He knows that Chris was there in the Spencer Maison, so close to Racoon City and only two months before hell broke loose in the city. He had been there when the virus-terror began that’s still hauting them today. They probably could share a story or two about what is was like - back then. However, Leon wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready to talk about it.
“Claire said you’d have taken a hotel otherwise. Not living close?” Chris brings over the cup for Leon who takes it with a thanks, and sits down on the other side of the bar counter.
“No, I’m living in Washington D.C., makes things at work way easier.”
“D.C, huh? Government pay that well?”
Leon laughs and shakes his head. “Jealous? They pay for the rent, alright, but the pay is… okay, I’d say way too much unpaid overtime. BSAA seems to pay you a pretty penny too, couldn’t even imagine buying a house.”
“The BSAA is more of an agency that pays when I get shit done, so don’t expect anything fancy, Leon.” Chris grins. Leon had noticed that Chris isn’t thrilled about Leon’s employer, so it’s even more calming that they can talk about it in a lighthearted way. “The house belonged to our parents, died when we were still young but that house is too precious to ever give it up. Though I do have to say, taking care of it on my own while Claire is in the dormitory, it’s quite a task…”
“You’re going to grow into the job of a househusband, I believe in you.” Leon hides his smirk behind his cup of steaming hot coffee, ignoring Chris’ glare. It’s a funny image in his head, so he does hold onto it for a while.
“I want to say that this is the last time I’m ever making coffee for you. But I’d start making breakfast, wanna help me or watch the househusband do the thing?”
It takes everything for Leon not to fall down from his bar stool laughing. He’s tempted to say that he’ll take the offer and just watch, it’s not often he has handsome men making breakfast for him, but he manages to keep that remark to himself. Instead, he drowns the rest of his coffee.
“I’m warning you though, I can’t cook for shit.”
They make the whole program: Pancakes, buns, fried eggs, sausages and more, enough for a whole army. Or two hungry Redfields and a Leon. Which is basically an army when it comes to fighting zombies.
They have their second cup of coffee while watching the sunrise, taking a break after they’ve heard Claire getting up upstairs and going to the bathroom.
“You really can’t cook for shit, somebody should teach you.”
“Are you offering yourself as a teacher?”
“If it means you come over more frequently, yes?”
“You know, I do have to work sometimes?”
“Then at your place?”
Leon takes another sip of coffee while staring out of the window, ignoring the little funny jumpy things his heart does. He can’t say if it’s a good or bad thing, but he’s tending towards the “very bad”-side of things.
Instead, he concentrates on everything but the man next to him. There is a garden behind the house, it must be wonderful in summer to relax there or have a BBQ. And as he learned last night, they used to have dogs, not anymore though due to work.
“Look, I’m pretty sure the government isn’t going to be thrilled about you, a member of the BSAA, knowing my address, but I blame it on my lack of sleep that I’m going to tell you anyway. Memorize it, Redfield, I won’t tell you twice.”