Chapter Text
The last BOW explodes into a frankly disgusting pile of goo, and Leon slumps against a wall, breathing heavily. He can hear indistinct voices as Chris speaks into a radio, and then footsteps approach and a heavy hand lands on his shoulder. Leon's just happy to be alive, honestly, and he can't be blamed for the way he leans into the touch.
"Alright?"
"Oh, you know me, I'm always alright." Leon puts on his best charming grin, but drops it at the unwavering stare. "Yes, honestly. Bruised, some superficial cuts, and my knee hurts like hell, but I'm fine. Are you?"
Chris nods, satisfied. "You got the worst of it, I'll just be sore tomorrow. What the hell happened? Why are you even here?"
"Why are you here? Why are any of us ever somewhere? Someone's doing bioterrorism and we're supposed to find out how to stop them." Leon sighs. It was a stroke of luck, if not a bit embarrassing, that Chris had seen him sprinting out of the facility with a pack of snarling BOWs on his heels and jumped in to assist.
"Fair enough. I was told recon only, but…" He trails off, gesturing at the pile of bodies.
"Mm, funny, so was I." Leon pushes himself off the wall with a groan. "I'll leave your name out of the reports if you'll do the same for me?" He doesn't really need to wait for an answer, it's standard protocol for the few times the two of them have run into each other on missions. It happens more than one would think, and less than one (Leon) would like, although he avoids admitting it, even to himself.
Unfortunately, his attempt at a cool departure is ruined when his traitorous knee buckles out from underneath him only a few steps away. Maybe he really is getting too old to keep roundhouse kicking BOWs. Chris is there in a flash, an arm wrapping around Leon's waist to hold him up in a way that would probably fluster him if he wasn't too busy being embarrassed that he needed it. "Fucking hell," Leon groans, "Put me down, Redfield, I'm fine."
"I suppose you're planning to hop to evac, then?" Chris loosens his grip, but doesn't step away. "I had to hike nearly three miles to get here, and I don't see any closer place for a helo to land."
Infuriatingly, he's right. Leon was probably dropped off at the same place, and he's meant to radio in when he starts walking back. DSO will be expecting him to manage an hour's walk, and he can't think of much more humiliating than being carried to evac by Chris Redfield.
"I'll figure something out." He mutters, but he can already tell that Chris won't accept that as an answer. He pulls back, wobbly on one foot, but Chris kindly doesn't point it out. Leon doesn't need any legs to stab him, if he did.
"Come on, there's a BSAA safehouse nearby. There will be enough medical supplies to get you patched up and you can ship out tomorrow. Unless they need you back tonight?"
Not seeing another option, Leon nods. "Fine. But this stays out of the reports too, you understand?" He glares as best he can while still standing on one foot.
Chris salutes jokingly, and then steps back into Leon's space, offering a broad shoulder to be leaned on. God, as soon as pain isn't making his vision swim, Leon's imagination is going to have a field day.
The safehouse, or more of a safecabin, really, is thankfully as close as Chris had indicated, tucked neatly into thick trees. They shuffle awkwardly through the door, and Leon drops to a seat in the nearest chair while Chris does a cursory sweep of the place and then, apparently satisfied, starts removing his gear.
"Take your pants off." Chris instructs, and promptly goes a bit red. "I mean, we need to see your injury."
"Buy me dinner first, Redfield." Leon teases, just to watch that flush deepen. "Or breakfast, preferably."
"Just let me see how badly you're hurt, Kennedy." Chris still looks embarrassed, but there's a note of relief and something else in his tone that has Leon curious. His knee really does hurt, though, so he does as instructed without further complaint.
They both wince as Leon maneuvers his pants past the swelling, bruises already starting to form. Chris kneels to get a closer look and oh that's an image that's going to live in Leon's head forever.
"I'm no medic, but I don't think anything looks broken. There's ice packs in the first aid kit, but we should clean it up first. Where else are you hurt?" Chris looks up, and it's Leon's turn to flush as they make eye contact.
"Uh. I think there's a cut on my side, it stings. I'm really fine, though. I can take care of myself." Some petulance creeps into his tone. He's used to working alone, and Chris's concern is unfamiliar, though not unwelcome.
"I know you can," Chris replies easily. "But you don't have to. I'll get the first aid kit. And see if there's some other clothes around here."
Leon twists around to investigate his side once he's left alone, and he's glad to find that while it's a long cut, it's shallow. The bleeding has already mostly stopped, and if he's lucky, the first aid kit might have some of that spray that he's pretty sure came from Umbrella, but both DSO and BSAA operatives seem to get their hands on frequently.
"Okay, one first aid kit, and good news!" Chris waves a pair of sweatpants at Leon cheerfully. He's replaced his own outfit with a matching pair and a BSAA-branded t-shirt that is definitely at least one size too small. Leon blinks, unable to pull his eyes away from the way those muscles shift under the tight fabric, breathes through the jolt of attraction that he really should be used to by now.
He accepts the pants and the offered antiseptic wipes and antibiotic ointment, snapping a pair of plastic gloves on to try and keep things sanitary. Chris does the same, kneeling back down at Leon's feet, much to his surprise. "What- Chris, I can take care of it myself!"
"And I said you don't have to." One large hand hovers over Leon's thigh, warmth radiating even through the glove. "I'll leave you alone if you really want, but I want to help."
No, he really doesn't want to be left alone. "…Fine." Leon mutters, ripping open a packet. "Thanks." The gentle pressure of Chris's hand paired with the concern on his face as he inspects Leon's knee is really too much for him to handle after this day. He shoves the antiseptic wipe against the cut on his side instead, focusing on the familiar sting.
Chris finishes cleaning up his knee and snaps the ice pack, securing it gently with a strip of bandage, then stands back up and begins gathering the trash as Leon pulls the borrowed sweatpants on. There's tension, an odd set to his shoulders that wasn't there before, and it makes Leon nervous.
"What's the verdict, Nurse Redfield, will I live?" He quips, and earns himself a soft laugh.
"Take it easy, but I think you'll pull through." Chris jokes back, and the tension has lessened but something off remains. "Are you hungry? I can offer you protein bars or…peanut butter protein bars."
"Oh, you really know how to spoil a guy. Peanut butter works for me." Leon winks, snatching the bar tossed his way with genuine gratefulness. He's starving, he realizes, and the texture is like cardboard but it's good nonetheless. There's a comfortable silence as they both eat, the day's exhaustion setting in as the last of the adrenaline fades. There's painkillers in the first aid kit, he realizes, and tosses a couple back with a gulp of water and then yawns so hard his jaw cracks.
"Here, I'll help you into the bedroom." Chris pulls him up effortlessly, beginning the awkward shuffle again down the narrow hallway towards the - wait. Bedroom? Singular?
Leon's fears are confirmed as they're met with one door, a simple room with a queen bed, a dresser where Chris had presumably found their sweatpants, and another door half-open leading to the bathroom. "Seriously?" He mumbles, mostly to himself.
"You can have the bed, don't worry," Chris has gone red again, averting his eyes from Leon's incredulous stare.
"Don't be ridiculous, there's room enough for two. This can't be the first time you've had to share a bed on a mission?"
"No, of course, that's fine, if you're fine then I'm fine." He still won't look directly at Leon, but he does offer a clean tshirt and a towel. "There's soap and toothpaste and stuff in the bathroom cabinet. I'll just…secure the perimeter while you get ready."
There's an ache in Leon's chest as he awkwardly maneuvers into the bathroom. Of course it wouldn't be Chris's preference to share a bed with him, but he'd thought they were friends. Friendly, at least? They've interacted enough over the years, initially at Claire's insistence, and then of their own volition these past couple, moreso after Chris helped pull him out of his head and away from his drinking problem. He knows his little crush is hopeless, but even still it doesn't feel nice to know Chris would rather sleep in a rickety wooden chair than next to him. Leon cleans himself up as best he can, wishing for an actual shower, rinses the worst of the bloodstains off his shirt and pants, and leaves the now-leaky ice pack in the sink for later before using the wall to get himself into bed.
Chris runs a hand down his face on the porch, cursing himself for not bringing cigarettes. It was supposed to be recon, grab any intel, in and out. Although the fact that they'd given him this safehouse location maybe speaks to the fact that someone was aware it might not be so simple.
He'd panicked, seeing Leon being chased, and more so when his knee was hurt, not that he'd ever admit that to anyone but himself. Leon would be deeply offended, and anyone else would think he's ridiculous. He is ridiculous. Leon is a wildly competent agent, and certainly doesn't need Chris Redfield hovering over him, but Chris can't help it.
Sometimes he thinks he's the only one trying to keep Leon safe, even including the man himself. It's a relief to see him lighter, happier, not as likely to drink himself to death every night, but Chris can't shake the worry. That's his lot in life, he supposes. To be concerned about and helplessly in love with someone he sees a few times a year, someone who would probably flee in disgust if he knew the extent of Chris's feelings.
Fuck, he needs a smoke. He's had his hands on Leon more today than he has maybe ever, and despite the overwhelming concern about the injury he can't erase the memory of his touch on Leon's slim waist or sturdy thigh. Memory now, not just fantasy. And his slip-up telling Leon to take his pants off? Mortifying. Even more so considering that Chris would buy him breakfast every day for the rest of their lives if Leon let him, and now he has to go in there and sleep next to him and treat him like any other soldier on a mission.
At least they're alone here, Chris muses as he slips back inside the house, checking all of the locks. Claire's been insufferable since she noticed the way Chris looks at Leon, and Chris nearly got his ass kicked by Jill when he got so distracted watching Leon kick a zombie's head off that he almost let her get hit. He owes her drinks for the rest of their lives, probably, especially since she didn't tell anyone else what happened. The likelihood of getting out of this with his dignity intact would dramatically decrease if either of them were here.
Chris shakes himself out of his thoughts, trying to slip into the bedroom as stealthily as possible. Leon's asleep already, and only stirs a little as Chris gets under the covers on the other side. It's peaceful. Too peaceful. Chris has to take a deep breath against the swell of emotion, and he turns over to face the wall, forcing his body to relax so he can actually get some sleep.
Leon wakes up warm and content and having actually slept through the night, if the sun streaming against his closed eyelids is any indication, and he sighs, stretches a little, and settles back down, leaning into the steady presence behind him.
…Wait.
Leon jerks fully awake with a gasp, twisting around and startling said steady presence, and watches with cold disappointment as Chris's expression fills with horror and he flings himself away.
"Sorry!" Chris yelps, almost falling over with his haste to get out of the bed, and Leon does his best to hide the way that fucking hurts.
"Careful, Redfield, or I'm gonna start thinking you're homophobic," Leon says weakly, sitting up with a groan. He's still really fucking sore and at this point just wants to go home.
"No- I- What?"
"Never mind. Just- It's fine." Leon pulls himself up, testing his weight on his knee gingerly. It still hurts, but it isn't threatening to give out again. "I'll get dressed and out of your way." He doesn't wait for Chris to respond, limping over and locking himself in the bathroom.
His shirt is still a little damp and more than a little disgusting, but he'd rather feel gross than show up in a BSAA tshirt, so on it goes. The locked door between him and Chris is an even greater relief when he nearly falls over trying to get his sweatpants off and cargos back on.
Leon exits the bathroom, and Chris goes to get changed without a word, and the silence is horrible. He busies himself checking over all his weapons and making sure the USB he'd been sent to collect at the start of all this is safely tucked in a pouch.
Footsteps sound in the hallway, and Leon looks up to find Chris entering the room again.
"I'm sorry-"
"Sorry, I-"
They speak at the same time, and the tension breaks with their huffs of laughter. Chris gestures at him to continue.
"I'm sorry I made it awkward." Leon says. "It's really fine. We can just never mention this whole thing again. Especially the part where I almost fell over trying to walk away." His attempt to lighten things up works, and Chris's soft smile feels like it's warming him up from the inside.
"No, that part I will be telling Claire. But you didn't make it awkward, I did, and I'm sorry too." Chris extends a hand to pull Leon up. "How's your knee? You're walking better."
"Sore still, but fine. I'm just about to radio in for evac and head out, so I guess this is 'see you later.'"
"Text me when you're home. I'll be in DC in a couple of weeks, actually. We could get drinks?"
"Sounds good." Leon smiles, small but genuine. "Thanks for the assist out there, Redfield. Stay safe."
2:18pm
To: Chris
Home safe. Let me know when you're in town?
8:49 pm
From: Chris
Just headed out myself. Will do.