Don't own the Resident Evil characters or any of that junk (Shake n Bake, etc.)

Post CVX, by a few months. LeonxClaire, from Claire's POV.

This story was written and published in 2005, long before Darkside Chronicles came around. It's AU, to a point, especially where Sherry is mentioned. I have no plans to revamp it as of now.

Leon and Claire are trying the whole 'being roommates' thing, but seriously - like I'm gonna just leave it at that. Not sexy because I fail at sexy. My bad.

Overly belated dedication to It's The Fear because she is teh awesome.


It was the beginning of the second round of the Stanley Cup playoffs and the cable wasn't working right. The only TV receiving was the one in Leon's bedroom, so we'd decided to watch the game in there.

It was just the two of us. Chris, choosing to completely dismiss my love of the wonderful sport that is hockey and focus only on the fact that I'm still under 21, had invited Leon to go watch the game on the big screen at the bar with him and a few of his buddies from work.

And me? Well, as Chris put it: Jill wasn't doing anything, so I could hang out with her.

Now I love Jill as much as one can love the woman fucking her big brother... No, seriously, I think she's wonderful - I adore her - but I didn't like that Chris just assumed I wanted to hang out with her. Or her with me, for that matter.

I guess it isn't really important, because it never came to that. Leon turned my brother down. Said thanks but no thanks, maybe next time, cause he had already made plans to watch the game with me.

Chris, well-informed on nearly every detail of our lives, inquired about the cable situation. Leon told him that, yes, the cable was out in my room and the living room, but for some reason it worked just fine in his room, so we'd be watching the game in there. If Chris had any problem with that, he was sure to keep it to himself. He just shrugged his shoulders and gave Leon a pat on the arm. Then he turned to me and said, "Be good."

I was a little surprised Chris just left it at that, given how strongly he felt about me moving in with Leon in the first place. Then again, that could be because one day, out of the blue, I just came to him and declared, "I can't stand living with you anymore."

Chris and I had just come back from Antarctica and neither of us was in the best place emotionally. I just couldn't look at him without seeing Steve's face as he died in my arms, or Wesker's as he kicked me, choked me and referred to me as the bait he would use to lure Chris in and kill him.

Chris and I fought all the time. We hardly spent any time together. If he wasn't staying the night with Jill, I was. I spent most of my days off at Leon's, whether he was there or not.

It was on one of those days that Leon finally asked me, "Why don't you just move in with me? You're here all the time anyway."

The decision was made in one day and the move only took one day.

Leon and I sort of tip-toed around each other for the first week or so. It hadn't dawned on us before that we really didn't know that much about each other.

Did he snore? Did I snore?

Did he cook? I sure as hell don't.

We'd always gone out for food before. Except for that one time we got drunk and decided to try and make our own fried mozzarella sticks out of string cheese and Shake n Bake.

Would we buy our groceries and stuff together? Or was it each roommate for himself? Was he messy? He didn't seem to be, but you never know. You always hear about women who had no idea their husbands were total slobs until after the wedding. Not that he's my husband. Or fiancé. He's not even my boyfriend. We aren't together. At all.

Why do I feel the need to keep reminding myself of that?

Am I messy? Well, I think that goes without saying.

But the thing that worried me the absolute most was what I would do if and when Leon brought a girl home. I dreaded the morning I'd stumble into the kitchen and find some hussy at the stove, making them both a big omelet, wearing only one of his t-shirts over her panties and looking perfect even though she'd just rolled out of bed. His bed.

That, of course, got me wondering how thin the walls were. Was he loud? Was I? I didn't think I was, but who knows. I'm not exactly proud of my last couple of sexual encounters. The amount of noise we made is the least of my worries when it comes to that.

But none of that stuff ever happened. No noisy sex, no omelet-cooking hussies, or anything of the sort.

We've both been out on a couple of dates, since moving in together. Dates with other people, not each other. One or two dinners with a nice, harmless guy or girl who we never intended to see again because we can't let go of our pasts.

After a couple of weeks the awkwardness had faded and things just sort of fell into place. Leon and I had taken to doing each other's dishes and laundry, had declared Sunday movie night, Tuesday taco night, and were spitting off the balcony together like we'd known each other for years.

I don't know how to describe it, but it's like we were born to live together. Born to be together.