Chapter Text
You’d been working for the DSO for a few months now. There wasn’t any reason in particular you took the job. With your work experience and desperation to pay the bills, everything seemed to line up perfectly. Surprisingly, it wasn’t a high stakes job. It felt like any other secretary, assistant job you’d ever taken before. The tasks were simple and sometimes the most exciting part of your day was ordering more coffee filters for the breakroom. But it was nice. Your stress levels were down and it gave you an excuse to wear some of your nicer clothes, considering it was a job for a government agency.
So here you are, in your pencil skirt and blouse, just trying to make it through the afternoon by making yourself a cup of coffee. The dismal vibe of the break room certainly didn’t perk you up. A part of you thinks you should have gone out for your lunch break and maybe you wouldn’t feel so stir crazy right now, but it’s too late for that. Maybe next time. For now, maybe a five minute break to make yourself a coffee would be enough. You needed some space away from your computer and the endless, monotonous emails from your superiors asking you to schedule mission briefings and so on.
With your petite stature, you struggle to reach a mug from the top shelf of the break room cabinet. Goddamnit. You think to yourself. They should really have a step-stool in here or something. You move up to your tiptoes and stretch your fingers as high up as you can, hoping and praying your fingers at least graze the handle of the coffee mug. Suddenly, a large muscular hand shoots past yours and effortlessly grabs the mug you’ve been reaching for. You’re startled at first, when you see who it is, and then embarrassed. You can’t help but feel your heart start to race.
As you look at him, he offers you the mug with an unchanging expression. Typical. In the short time you’d been working here, you’d yet to have the “pleasure” of running into Leon Kennedy. As you lock eyes with him, you realize oh– he’s a lot closer to you than you thought. The proximity seems to make you panic but you hope it isn’t obvious. Stupidly, your hand is still raised, frozen and now grasping at an empty space in the cabinet. A blush creeps up your cheeks and you begin to stutter out a response.
"Oh! I'm- thank you.." You stutter out. Your eyes lock as he absolutely towers over you. With shaking hands, you reach up and gingerly take the mug from him.
"Thank you." You repeat again, wanting to sound thankful but it somehow comes out apologetic. You’re not even entirely sure what you’re sorry for. This whole situation is so humiliating. And it doesn’t help that he’s genuinely, a little terrifying. What is he even doing here? You’d assumed he’d still be on his mission right now. You weren’t too involved with the planning of missions. That was a little out of your job description. But surely, he’s back early, isn’t he? At this moment it feels like he’s here just to torment you.
Leon remains stone-faced as the realization of the situation finally sinks in. Unbeknownst to you, he was certainly aware that the DSO office employees tended to be unnerved by his presence. But for some reason it catches him off guard that you look so... terrified of him. His mind finally settles on the fact that he's intimidating you, even if that wasn’t his intention.
He lets out a combination of a hum and a nod in response and turns his back to you, and you hear him start to take his food out of the rickety break room fridge. The break room on this floor is cramped, so his attempt to put some distance between you and this uncomfortable situation is futile.
However, you’re thankful for the distance and you’re positive he is too.
Standing there, feeling a little dazed from the whole interaction, you stare into the empty mug. What were you doing here again? Coffee– right. Oh god– he probably hates you now. You'd gone months without running into the agent. Rookie agents and secretaries alike had told you horror stories about him. "Don't get on his bad side." They'd all say. Tales of how he prefers to work alone. No one had ever described him as someone who was easy to work with. You’d even heard of employees drawing straws to see who’d have to deliver new case files to his office.
You weren't totally oblivious to him though, you'd seen him around, of course. His gruff demeanor felt like it followed him around like a dark cloud. Suddenly, everyone is interested in their computer screens when he walks into the room, not daring to make eye contact.
Along with the rumors of him scaring off poor, unsuspecting interns, the rumors of his field work were just as intimidating. Who wouldn't be intimidated by the guy who saved the president's daughter from a cult of zombified religious fanatics? Not all of the agents were so daunting to interact with, most of them were pretty nice. But there’s something about the way you could look at Leon Kennedy and tell he could kill a man with his bare hands.
With a shake of your head in an attempt to snap yourself back to reality, you start making your coffee. You go through the motions in a zombie-like fashion (no pun intended), placing your mug under the spout of the coffee-maker. You open the cabinet once again and realize, shit, the coffee pods are just out of reach, again. You have no idea what on earth possesses you to do this, but you have no choice. Cringing, you open your mouth to speak, heart racing. With a timid cough to clear your throat, you break the silence.
"Would you– be able to–" Great. It comes out somehow mousier than before. The sound of your own voice nearly makes you cringe again. With a lame attempt to finish the sentence with your hands, you gesture to the instant coffee pods on the top shelf.
Leon hears your voice crack just after you clear your throat and start speaking again. Your eyes bore into his back and you’re ready to start apologizing and tell him to forget it. He turns around, agonizingly slow, to face you. The dim lighting of the break room casts a shadow over his face, somehow making him look even more menacing than usual. Another few seconds pass and to you, it feels like hours. The realization of what you're asking for washes over him and he silently walks over.
Without a word, he reaches up once more, this time his rough fingertips brush against yours. Embarrassingly so, the slight touch sends electricity through your veins. Now that you can really look at him up close, he's sort of beautiful. His ashy blonde hair hangs over his permanently furrowed brows. And his eyelashes, long and thick, frame his piercing blue eyes. You want to be embarrassed for asking such a high-ranking agent for help with something so small and meaningless, but at this point, you're too busy falling in love. It’s now that you wonder why there was never any talk about how good looking he is. It also crosses your mind that maybe the fact he could kill you instantly, right here in this break room without making a sound is part of what’s making him so attractive. You try to dismiss the thought as soon as it happens, feeling crazy.
"Sure." He mutters as his hands clasp around the coffee pod. If you were paying attention, you would have caught the fact that he almost looks like he finds this funny. He says something else, something you don't catch because you're too busy counting his eyelashes, or maybe you're thinking about what you'd name your children. Do you think he'd want two? Where do you think he'd want to propose? Maybe he'd like to take you somewhere special, secluded and romantic when he proposes. He seems like the type, right? Maybe this mysterious vibe was part of his charm–
Suddenly, you realize he's waiting for you to say something. Your cheeks go hot once again. You missed his question, but you also missed the amused smile that tugged at his lips for a split second.
"I'm sorry?" You blurt out, a little louder than you'd wanted to. He’s standing so close, you can smell him from here, he smells good too.
He raises his brows. "Is hazelnut okay?" He holds the coffee pod with the label facing you. Right now, you can't even remember what flavor you were initially going for. Did you like hazelnut? You wonder if he does. He probably drinks it black. For a moment, you fantasize about making him a cup after spending a night together.
Back to reality. "Oh-! Yeah. That's.. the one I wanted." You snatch the cup from his hands.
The corner of his lips curl up into a faint smile as he sees you fumble over your words. He's definitely amused, to say the least and you’re not sure how to feel about it. As much as there are butterflies in your tummy, the unexpected show of personality from him is kind of freaking you out.
He rakes his eyes down your frame. Another thing you miss as you start to fumble with the coffee maker, jamming the pod into the compartment without much grace. Much to your dismay, even if you can’t see it, you can feel his eyes on you as you struggle.
"You haven't worked here very long." Oh god– he’s talking again. Why is he talking again? And, it's not a question. It’s definitely straight to the point. That's so him.
You shake your head in response.
"Just a few months." Your voice comes out a little breathless. As if you’re using all of the energy in your body to hold a conversation with him.
More silence as you smack the brew button on the top of the coffee maker in an attempt to look busy under his gaze.
Leon watches you with that same unchanging expression. You might be totally oblivious to it but he’s taking it all in, from your clumsiness and stuttering to the way you're doing your best to look busy and avoid looking back up at him.
"I've never seen you before." Of course he hasn't. Why would he ever recognize an office secretary? Surely he’s too busy to notice the comings and goings of staff at headquarters.
You nod slowly, eyes fixated on the coffee that's finally starting to brew. You’re worried you’re about to break a sweat, but you can’t tell if you’re hot or cold.
"That makes sense, I don't expect you to know everyone in headquarters." You mumble out, your heart finally starting to slow down. He doesn't miss a beat before responding,
"I know everyone."
And it's true. Part of what makes him such a good agent is just how observant he is. Although he's not totally aware of the effect he has on people, he never forgets a face. And he's certainly never seen yours before. He'd remember.
You don’t say anything. You’re starting to realize you’re not as slick as you think you are, and that he definitely notices how fixated you are on brewing coffee. It might be all in your head, or it’s just the lingering embarrassment but the air feels so thick between the two of you.
"Your name?" His voice comes out low. Just the sound of it makes your heart swell. Somehow, it feels humiliating to tell him your name and you manage to stumble over your words in the process. As your own name tumbles out of your mouth, you make the daring decision to finally look over at him. The sight of him leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, accentuating his– honestly giant, muscles is heart stopping to say the least. His aloof, unaffected expression doesn’t help.
He goes to introduce himself but you cut him off. “I know.” You say, waving your hand in the air dismissively. Immediately your hand flies to your mouth. “I didn’t mean – I just meant –”
To your surprise, this elicates a laugh from him, something you’d never heard before. “I thought it would be polite to exchange names, both of us.” He speaks in his low, gravelly voice.
“I’m so sorry!” You start. There you go, embarrassing yourself again, “I just meant… Everyone knows you. You’re sort of like.. A big deal around here.” Digging yourself a hole now, huh?
The amused smile doesn’t leave his face as he shifts his weight to lean against the countertops even more. He quite literally looks down on you, making you feel even smaller than before. “Are you trying to flatter me?” Your cheeks couldn’t get any redder at this point.
I just wanted coffee. You think to yourself, bitterly.
“I don’t know what to say to that.” You respond with total honesty. This whole conversation (if you can even call it that) went south immediately. You wonder if there’s a way you could possibly embarrass yourself any more than you already have, but you decide you’d rather have him stop talking before you have to find out.
As if you’re saved by the bell – the microwave beeps. His food is ready. You don’t even remember him putting it in there. He perks up at the sound and he’s forced to tear his eyes away. He pushes himself off the counter with a grunt that seems to go straight to your heart and somehow makes your mouth dry (god– you’re desperate). He takes his meal out and you don’t miss how broad his shoulders look as he stands with his back to you.
“Enjoy your coffee.”
And with that, he’s gone. It feels like the air suddenly returned to the room. The second the door to the break room shuts. You press your hands to your cheeks and start fanning yourself, trying to get all the nervous jitters out. Holy shit. Hoping that no one is around to notice, you move your hands to fully cover your face and let out a muffled scream.
Only you would meet one of the most dangerous men in the country and walk away with a crush on him.
You pick up the coffee and dump it down the sink, no longer interested. The last thing you need right now is something else getting your heart rate up. All that’s running through your mind right now is just a chorus of “you’re fucked” over and over again.
To say that you spend the rest of your afternoon in a daze would be an understatement. You sit at your desk chair numbly going through the day. It’s like you turned on auto-pilot the second you left that break room. You leave for the day with no recollection of anything you did, mumbling goodnight to your coworkers as you go through the motions of putting your coat on. And you certainly don’t remember the drive home.
The next day, you arrive at your desk in the morning to a peculiar sight. A paper cup of coffee from a local coffee shop. You look around, assuming someone must have left it there by accident. Eventually, you pick it up, it’s still warm. Shrugging your shoulders, you raise the cup to your lips and take a careful sip. Hazelnut. Your heart shatters and puts itself back together again all at once. Shakily, you sit down in your dilapidated desk chair and try to catch your breath. It’s foolish, but you look around for a note, or even a name on the order of the coffee, but there’s nothing. You should have known better. That’s not his style.
Assuming that’s who it’s from, of course. Maybe you shouldn’t be so presumptuous. There’s no reason for you to get your hopes up. But really, who else could it be from? It was definitely him.
Your hands move on their own and before you know it, you’re looking his name up in the system. Your eyes land on his file and you see that the DSO shipped him off to some remote country for a field mission. As if you couldn’t fall in love any harder than you already had, the realization has you weak in the knees. He stopped by to bring you a coffee on his way to fight literal bio-terrorism. Once again, your fantasies are filled with visions of a proposal, but you decide to at least wait until he asks you on a date before you start planning a wedding. But there’s nothing wrong with being a little delusional, right?