Warnings: no beta, OOCness, English is not my first language, inconsistent tenses, i am very bad at prepositions, some curse words, mention of alcohol, sexual situations (not very explicit), CW: suicidal ideation
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.
A/N: I was listening to "Abuku" by King Gnu on repeat and this fic was the result
i wanted to write sad aeon but for some reason this turned into a spicy post-degeneration fic. don't ask me what happened, idk either
Leon covered his hands in soapsuds and formed a circle using his thumb and forefinger, blowing into it. A small bubble formed and broke free, before eventually disappearing into non-existence.
He sighed, submerging his shoulders into the soapy water before resting his head against the rim of the bathtub. He stared straight ahead, where his eyes met a pop of the colour blue against the drab white walls of the bathroom.
There was a painting of ocean waves hanging a safe distance away from the bathtub. It was primarily in different shades of blue, but the foam and bubbles were white. Leon closed his eyes, and he could almost hear the crashing of the waves.
If he submerged his head in the bathtub, he could pretend that the ocean took him, and no one would hear him gasping for air.
Maybe he wouldn't even struggle to breathe. Maybe he would let the ocean claim his life.
He cracked his eyes open and snorted. He was certain that even in the afterlife, the monsters—literally and figuratively—tormenting him would follow. Besides, who would keep watch over Sherry Birkin? Leon couldn't let the responsibility fall on Claire; Sherry's guardian barely let the girl see her protectors.
And who would keep Ashley out of trouble? A year after that whole thing in Spain and Leon was still keeping her out of messy situations, from rabid reporters shoving microphones into her face, to paparazzi hoping to catch the presidential daughter doing something scandalous.
He caught himself smiling. That ocean wave painting was a housewarming gift from Ashley. She had made it during an oil painting class, and it was literally the only decoration in Leon's otherwise bare apartment.
He had moved in just last week and hadn't had the time to decorate yet, not with all the boxes that needed to be unpacked. Most of those boxes contained papers—documents, newspaper clippings, books, notepads, magazines—that were related to his work. He had unpacked those first, organising them into file cabinets and bookshelves, before moving on—or rather, not moving on—to less important things like filling his new apartment with furniture and decorations.
He would be barely home anyway. Adam Benford, the one who had recruited him into the US-STRATCOM, made it clear to him from the beginning that the US government would work him to death. Leon didn't need to decorate his apartment when all he would do there was bathe and sleep. He didn't even need to eat there; he could just eat out all the time. What was the point of having a couch, or a dining table, or a gas range? But maybe he would buy a fridge so he could drink a cold bottle of beer whenever he got home. Maybe he would even buy a bed frame; so far, all his bedroom had were a mattress on the floor and a desk lamp, which also rested on the floor.
What was the point of decorating a living space whose sole occupant was no different from the undead he had been trying to kill? Eliminate one bio-organic weapon and two more would take its place. These monsters came in waves upon waves, and they reached out to him with inhuman appendages, threatening to kill him, or worse, turn him into one of them.
Waves of bio-organic weapons or ocean waves…The only difference was Leon was more willing to let the latter take his life.
Maybe if he was an emotionless robot then things would get easier, but he had people he cared about. He had people to protect. The more he pretended that he didn't have emotions, the harder his job became for him. He was human and he needed to care for something and someone, even though the cavity where his heart was supposed to be continually festered as the years went by.
He was so caught up in his thoughts that he had failed to register the figure leaning against the bathroom doorjamb. Her arms were crossed, and she was staring at him with a small smirk and curious eyes.
"What are you thinking of?" she asked.
It was a moot point to question how Ada had learned of his new address, and an even more futile exercise to ask how she had gotten in. The question with Ada wasn't the how, but the what and the why.
"If I knew that I would have a visitor," he said, sitting up straight, "I would have made myself more presentable."
"You're fine as you are. I do enjoy the sight of a half-naked Agent Kennedy."
"Oh, I'm fully naked in here, all right." He smirked. "Would you like to check?"
She slowly strode towards him, taking the five steps from the door to the bathtub. She finally uncrossed her arms, revealing a bright yellow rubber duck clutched in one of her hands.
She placed the rubber duck on his head, saying, "A little housewarming gift from me. Your new apartment is woefully devoid of furniture and décor."
"I apologise if my humble abode doesn't fit Her Majesty's luxurious tastes."
She turned her back to him and knelt on the floor. "Unzip me?"
He obliged, his eyes hungrily taking in the new patch of skin revealed by unzipping her red dress.
She stood up and slowly slid the straps of her dress down her shoulders, until it fell on the floor with a soft thud. She wasn't wearing any undergarments, although that shouldn't surprise him anymore, not when in the year since their reunion in Spain, he and Ada had lain together for several times, and more often than not, what she wore—or didn't wear—under her clothes was always a treat for him.
She climbed into the bathtub and straddled him. She reached for the rubber duck—it had fallen into the water moments ago—and placed it back on top of his head.
"Why are you really here?" he asked, looking into her eyes. Which was a struggle, considering that she was sitting on his lap, naked, her bare chest a few inches away from his face. Already he was beginning to feel the stirrings of arousal in his belly.
"I heard about Harvardville." She cupped his cheeks, thumbing his smooth jaw; he had shaven just this morning. "I came to see how you're doing."
"It was just your usual virus outbreak. Nothing out of the ordinary." He closed his eyes, revelling in the feeling of Ada's soft but callused hands on his face. "And Claire was there."
"How did your impromptu reunion go?" He opened his eyes and saw Ada looking at him with an amused expression.
"It's always good seeing Claire. Why are you asking me?" Ada reached under the water and began stroking him. "I'm—hah—I'm sure you already know what happened there."
"Then tell me something I don't know." The tip of her thumb brushed against his lips, so he sucked on it before releasing it with a loud and wet pop.
He gulped—and it hand nothing to do with the way Ada's hand was pleasuring him. "There was a woman there." Should he tell her about Angela? Ah, whatever. Why wouldn't he? Although he kind of felt like he was about to confess a sin…. "Angela."
"Angela Miller?" She settled snugly on his lap, slowly rolling her hips, making Leon bite back a moan. The rubber duck fell into the water, now forgotten.
"Yeah." His eyes almost rolled to the back of his skull at the deliciously slow friction Ada was giving him. "I promised to take her diving sometime."
She arched an eyebrow. "Is there some backstory I should know here?"
He smirked. "Nothing worthwhile."
He ran a finger down her back—down at the small groove caused by her spine. He had previously imagined her skin to be smooth and soft, but he was pleasantly surprised—even aroused—by finding out that her body was all hard muscles, the only soft parts her face and chest. But that made sense, especially with all the physical training they did. The sight of her toned arms, legs, and abdomen were sometimes all it took to push Leon off the edge.
She looked…soft back in Raccoon. Not just her physique—but her face and expressions as well. The past Ada—at least her memories of her from that wretched night—was more prone to showing her emotions, particularly exasperation (mostly directed at Leon).
The current Ada was much more experienced, with more training and skills. He had been a rookie when he had first met her, and she, he suspected, wasn't as experienced. But everything was different now. He was no longer that wide-eyed and baby-faced rookie cop, and she was no longer that more serious and less experienced spy. She was more playful now, confident enough in her abilities to allow a little bit of play to sneak into her work.
Or maybe that was when she only dealt with Leon. Maybe that would explain why she teased him a lot these days, or maybe that was because they were becoming more intimately familiar with each other.
"This couldn't be a mere social call." He craned his head, and she greedily latched onto his neck. The water was wet and cold, but he felt fire where Ada's tongue landed and sucked. "Why are you really here?"
She leaned backwards and met his eyes, placing her hands on his shoulders. She cocked her head to the side and looked at him…fondly? "What, I can't drop a visit to my favourite human?" She brushed the hair away from his face. "How many times have I visited you unannounced?"
"Too few for my tastes," he said, maybe a bit too quickly. He laid a hand at the back of her head and brought her face closer to his. "I want more. I need more."
He closed that remaining gap between them and covered her lips with his own, and then opened her mouth with a prod from his tongue. Ada's hands rested at his nape, tilting his head so she could have more of him, all of him, and Leon gladly gave his everything to her.
Her hands might as well be the noose that would hang him, and her lips the juiciest yet most poisonous berry that would bring him death. He drowned in the little noises that she made, and even when they broke apart and he was almost asphyxiating, he pulled her back in, desperate to have more of her wicked tongue in his mouth.
If this was how he died, then it was a damn good way to die.
They broke apart, and he looked at her with dark and heavy-lidded eyes, whispering, "You'll be death of me."
"After all the trouble I went through just to keep you alive?" She nipped his jaw, her hands splaying across his chest. "I won't let you." Her eyes hardened. It looked so out of place in this situation. "I won't let you die, Leon. Whether from someone or something else's hand, and especially not by your own hand."
Leon could already imagine what kind of things people would say about Ada. Manipulator, user, bitch, traitor, villain, or even downright evil. But they didn't know her, not like how he did—if he really did know her at all. They never saw this side of her, or heard her say the words she said to him. But if they could—if only they could—he wondered if they would still say those things about her. He wondered what would have happened if they could see her the way he saw her.
Ah, that would be trouble. He would have a lot of rivals then.
The devil came in many forms, usually the one most tempting and alluring. But angels…they always terrified people, did they not? The angels had to say "Do not be afraid" first, with bright light emanating from them. Yet angels brought deliverance, and devils brought destruction. So really, what was Ada? Was she an angel sent to grant him repose, or a devil sent to condemn him?
She could be both. She was both. Ada was both Leon's deliverance and destruction, and the way she delivered him from peril was by destroying him. Destroying what he knew, what he thought he knew, whatever pre-conceived notions he had, and what he believed in. Destroying his ignorance by showing him glimpses of the truth. Destroying whatever veneer of peace he had been living in, and making him face the bitter reality.
And all of that happened in a single fateful night.
(The nights that followed their initial meeting was usually Ada destroying and tearing him apart, until he was nothing but a quivering mess, and all he had left was the shape of her name in his mouth. His deliverance, finally, had come—in all senses of the word.)
As much good of a man Leon was, there was darkness within him. And as morally ambiguous Ada was, there was light within her. They were yin and yang—perfectly balanced. These dichotomies complemented each other, melding together into one complex whole. One cannot exist without the other. Where one was, the other was sure to follow.
For someone who had supposedly lied in a million of ways, Ada sure did tell him the truth in a roundabout way. Sure, he had to discover it for himself, but would he really know the reality of whatever situation he was in without help from Ada?
"Don't worry, you're not getting rid of me of that easy," he said, smiling as he ran a hand down her back, downwards and downwards, until his hand rested at the swell of her ass.
She smiled, probably remembering those same words spoken a hundred bioweapon outbreaks ago. "Life before death, Leon. Strength before weakness. Journey before destination."
"Where'd you hear that from?"
"Doesn't matter."
He shook his head, then used his other hand to tip her chin upwards. "Besides, I don't really like the thought of being an incorporeal ghost. How else would I be able to touch you?"
He pulled her closer towards him, their lips crashing against each other, until there was no more space left between them. She melted into him, smothering him with her scent, touches, and kisses, until he could no longer breathe. He disentangled their lips and gasped for air, before letting her engulf him once more. Every time her lips left his he chased them back, and every time her hands went away, he chased them back. He wondered if he would continue chasing her, like how he chased each shadow, each shade of red that reminded him of her. He wondered if he would continue chasing the high he only felt when he was with her.
She was an ocean and he willingly let her swallow him, each wave of his thrusts bringing him deeper and deeper into her depths.
If this was what drowning felt like, then he didn't want to breathe again.
But he must. Drowning in her once wasn't enough—he must have more. These trysts with her were fragile bubbles ready to pop at any given moment, and before that could happen, he would take whatever she was willing to give to him, and he would greedily take them all for himself.
The waves of their climaxes soon ebbed. As they stayed there in his bathtub catching their breaths, Leon staring at Ada's dark eyes, messy hair, and swollen lips, he realised something—Ada was the point of it all. She was the reason. Why else did he struggle to stay alive all this time? That time after Raccoon, that was for Sherry. That time in South America, that was for Manuela. That time in Spain, that was for Ashley. But this time after Spain, after Harvardville, and after all the future outbreaks sure to come—those were for Ada. Those were for himself. He had given so much of himself to his job and to the world, and surely he was entitled to a little bit of selfishness, right?
Surely he was allowed to have this one thing, right?
Or maybe not. He couldn't have Ada—not her forever, and certainly not her entirety. He didn't want to own her; she wasn't an object. But he wanted her to belong to him.
If she asked him, he would belong to her too.
Ada slumped over him, her chest heaving. Leon brushed the sweat and water droplets away from her face, kissed her temple, and then asked in a soft voice, "Just for tonight, can I pretend that you belong to me?"
Ada kissed him, soft and slow and sweet. He was a drowning man in need of air, and her kiss was the breath of life he needed to stay alive.
He didn't want to stay alive, not with all the crap that he would continue to deal with. But if staying alive meant holding her like this, and kissing her and touching her like he was the only one she belonged to, he supposed that staying alive couldn't be that bad.
She pulled away and she stared at him, smiling.
He felt a steady thump thump thump in his heart and a flutter in his stomach.
He met her gaze, and his dead heart started beating.
"No need to pretend, Leon," she said, kissing his cheek. "Just for tonight, I belong to only you."
There were millions of lies in this world, and some of them had come from Ada. Trusting and believing in Ada wasn't an easy feat, but there was no reason for her to lie to him anymore. He didn't have anything that she wanted, at least not in the moment. And even if he did, their…relationship had progressed past the point of using each other. If they were going to use each other, they would damn well know about it.
"And the nights that will follow?" he asked as Ada kissed his other cheek. He laid a hand on her waist, steadying her on his lap. "Will you still belong to me?"
"I will." She pressed her forehead against his. "If you live to see those nights."
He chuckled, then pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "You leave me with no choice."
"You can choose not to see me anymore."
He pulled away slightly so he could meet her eyes. "That is not an option. That will never be an option. You're…You're…"
When Leon didn't say anything further, Ada got out of the bathtub and grabbed a towel, then wrapped it around her chest. She held a hand out to Leon and he took it, climbing out of the tub and wrapping a towel around his waist.
She turned to him and asked, "I'm what?"
"You're…" He grabbed her wrist. "You're a sight to behold—a sight so beautiful that I continue to keep on living just to see another glimpse of it." He stepped closer to her and tucked her hair behind her ear. "You make me want to live longer."
"Then my mission is accomplished."
"What mission?"
She placed her hands on his shoulders. "Keeping you alive. Isn't that what I've been always trying to do?"
He laughed lightly, then rested his forehead against hers. "What are you, my guardian angel?"
She looped her arms around his neck. "What's the most important step a man can take?"
He blinked. Where did this non-sequitur statement come from? "Uh. The first one?"
"It's the next one." She leaned away and looked into his eyes. "Always the next step, Leon."
He wrapped his arms around her waist. "The next step, huh?" He pulled her closer. "Will you be there to hold my hand?"
"Figuratively or literally?"
"Both."
"I will. I will hold your hand through it all."
His guardian angel indeed. She always kept him alive, always saved him from whatever mortal peril he was in. She didn't have to, but she did anyway, even putting her own life at risk and getting nothing in return. How could anyone call her evil after that?
He closed the remaining distance between them, embracing her and kissing her. It was different from the frantic and lust-filled pace they had in the bathtub; this time, he wanted to savour her slowly, making sure he tasted every inch of her before the sun rose.
"Let's move this to bedroom?" he said, voice low.
"Your bedroom doesn't even have a bed in it." She kissed his nose, his neck, and the bullet scar on his chest. "It has a mattress on the floor."
"It will do for now." He grabbed her hand, leading her towards his bedroom. It wasn't a very long journey from the bathroom to the bedroom, but in those few steps, Leon felt that he and Ada were always meant to arrive at the same destination at the same time, but whatever that destination was, was something he still didn't know. Would they end up at the altar or the graveyard? Would they share mutual feelings or cause mutual destructions? He didn't know yet.
But here in his tiny bachelor pad as he held her hand, he knew in his heart that he would do whatever it would take to hold her hand until the rest of time. And while he was insanely attracted to her, it was too early to call this love yet. It wasn't quite infatuation, and not quite love.
Maybe their destination was love. But what happened during the journey…only time would tell.
"The next time you visit, I'll have a proper bed and more decorations; Ashley wants to give me some of her paintings." he said. "Maybe you could even help me shop for more furniture and décor." Always the next step, Leon. Here he was taking the next step.
"Maybe I will. And maybe I'll even stay for breakfast."
Despite living alone, Leon still locked the door to his bedroom before removing those flimsy towels they wore, throwing them to the floor to be forgotten for the rest of the night. He didn't know why they even bothered with those.
"Actually, I want to go to the beach," said Leon as Ada pushed him down onto the mattress. He reached for the nearby lamp and turned it on.
She straddled him. "What, we're gonna go diving?"
"I can't see why not," he said, pulling her down for a kiss.
And then he was drowning in her once again, making him forget everything, making him forget how ephemeral this meeting was.
Leon had a sneaking suspicion that Ada needed this too—this sense of belonging to someone, of having someone to belong to her. Her life was more unstable than his, but if Leon could make her feel some semblance of stability and normalcy, then who was he to deny her? She needed this—and him—to some degree. And he needed her. It was a balanced give-and-take relationship, though neither of them recognised what they had as such.
But for the meantime, all that mattered was the way they moved against each other like the undulating and unforgiving waves of the stormy ocean.
Let them stay in this bubble for a little while longer. It would soon dissipate anyway.
"Life before death. Strength before weakness. Journey before destination. Speak again the ancient oaths and return to men the Shards they once bore." He turned to Dalinar, meeting his eyes. "The Knights Radiant must stand again."
-The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson
"The most important step a man can take. It's not the first one, is it?
It's the next one. Always the next step, Dalinar."
-Oathbringer by Brandon Sanderson
A/N: That rubber duck on Leon's head: Yep, that was because of The Matrix 4 trailer. The ocean waves painting: Last week when "Abuku" was playing on my head on repeat, I purchased an ocean waves painting from a friend. The ocean and drowning was a common theme in my headspace during the writing of this fic.
Mini playlist for this fic:
1. "Abuku" by King Gnu
2. "Prayer X" by King Gnu
3. "Into The Ocean" by Blue October
4. "Time is Running Out" by Muse
5. "You Belong To Me" by Jason Wade
6. "Meet You at the Gate" by Jayne Trimble