I still don't own any of the Resident Evil characters or locations.
I mention Claire's age as 19, but it's possible she's still 18. If I remember right, her age is listed as 19 in the battle game screen on Code Veronica, but I'm unable to confirm an actual birth date for her. If you know it and I'm wrong, lemme know. :)
EDIT: I've recently removed the bulk of the rant I originally posted along with this chapter, because, funny as it may have been, it had no place here. I also removed the alternate chapter 2. -snickerfit- Those who've read it know what I mean.
However, I will keep the explanations I offered in response to "Evil's" critique, right here, because I think they provide insight to anyone reading this, and since Evil's review was unsigned and he or she did not offer any contact info, I cannot reply directly to him or her. Hopefully, this will not result in me being reported by any rule-bugs here because I've acknowledged a review somewhere other than in a review reply.
To address Evil's concerns:
Leon and Claire didn't just move in together like that - we're talking roughly four months after Code Veronica. Leon and Claire (in my head) have been close since they met, and it was out of convenience as much as anything else that they decided to live together. As roommates.
I'm not saying they've completely abandoned their zombie killing, ridding the world of Umbrella, etc. But I think it's safe to say they had some down time. This story spans one evening. I think they can spare a few hours to sit down and just chill.
It was right before game time when I emerged from my bedroom. I had just gotten out of the shower a few minutes before. My hair was still damp as I forced it into a ponytail. I was barefoot, wearing a pair of cutoff shorts, and of course, my jersey to support my team.
I stepped into the kitchen to see Leon bent over, staring into the refrigerator. He had on a pair of faded jeans and a snug navy blue t-shirt. He stood up and turned my way. I noticed he had two bottles of beer in his hand as he closed the door behind him.
"I was just about to get you," he said, offering me a bottle.
I took it and smirked at him. "Giving a minor an alcoholic beverage?"
"Well, it's not gonna drink itself. But if you don't want it..." he teased.
"Now, now. I never said I didn't want it." I paused to click my tongue and shake my head. "If I had a nickel for every time a cop gave me - a very impressionable 19 year old girl - a beer-"
"I'm not a cop anymore," Leon said, somewhat sharply.
Much as I wanted to say something, I knew not to push it. The one and only fight Leon and I have had since we started living together - well, that's what it was about. I stand by what I said then - that he would be an amazing cop, that it's the perfect job for someone like him and that he deserved to be, and probably still could be hired just about anywhere. I just don't vocalize those feelings anymore.
"Hey, come on," he said softly, putting his hand on my back. "It's bad luck to miss the puck drop."
I just smiled and let him lead me to the bedroom.
I was a little excited and I couldn't figure out why. I mean, Leon and I had watched countless sports games together, movies, TV shows, played video games - you name it. But we didn't really spend much time in each other's bedroom. We'd hang out in the living room, then each go to our own room when we wanted to be alone.
To spend three uninterrupted hours in Leon's room, just the two of us...? Talk about heading into uncharted territory.
Leon opened his bedroom door and waited for me to step in before he did. He told me to sit wherever I wanted. He sort of crawled across his bed and picked the TV remote up off of his nightstand, putting his beer bottle down in its place. He turned the TV on as I sat down in his computer chair.
You know, Leon's room is very neat, especially for a guy's room. Way nicer than my room. God, my room is a shithole.
He's got a black comforter, with sheets and pillowcases to match. There's a little nightstand by the bed, with a lamp and a phone on it. The dresser's on one side of the room, near the window; his computer, computer desk, and kick ass swivel chair all sit near the door. The TV is right in front of the bed, just where it should be.
I noticed a couple of magazines and notebooks on the computer desk. A few CDs - things like that. There was a pair of boots and a backpack on the floor. He really didn't have a lot of personal effects, it seemed.
From the beginning of the game it was crystal clear that this would be a hard-fought victory, if a victory at all. Things just weren't going the way they were supposed to.
I groaned as another bad call was made and Leon shouted, "Come on!"
Leon was sitting at the edge of his bed, his weight on his arms as he leaned back slightly.
I was slouching in the computer chair off to his right, studying his profile as much as I was watching the game. The blinds were open just a bit, the orange-red glow of the sunset shining through. It highlighted all of Leon's features, including but not limited to his ridiculously long eyelashes and brought out that little bit of red in his hair.
I finished off my beer as the wrong guy skated to the penalty box and they cut to commercial.
I stood up to go for more booze. "Hey."
"Hmm?" Leon looked away from the TV and over at me.
I pointed to the empty beer bottle in my hand. That was my way of asking Leon if he needed another beer. I knew I did.
We'd sort of been taking turns running to the kitchen during commercial breaks and it just happened to be my turn this time around.
Leon leaned over, stretching to reach his bottle, sitting on his nightstand. His shirt came up just a bit and I was awarded a good look at his bare lower back and the waistband of his boxer shorts. Leon picked up the bottle to check how much he had left.
"Yeah, I could use another one," he told me, raising the bottle to his lips and downing what had to have been close to half of that beer at once.
I giggled a little and said, "Be right back." I took the empty bottle from his hand and turned for the door.
"What? What are you laughing at?" he shouted, as I left the room.
Soon as I was out in the hallway I allowed myself a smile and another little giggle. This time it wasn't at Leon's expense, although he did inspire it. What can I say? I was buzzed.
I sort of floated my way to the kitchen, thinking to myself, I saw Leon's undies. I saw Leon's undies. I saw Leon's- Damn, Leon's hot. Damn. Leon's hot. Damn.
Not that that's a bad thing. It's just...falling for your roommate? It's so cliché. It's been done so many times. It's cliché and it's been done so many times and it's exactly why Chris didn't want me to move in with Leon. Of course, he was convinced I'd already fallen for him. Who knows, maybe I had.
When I reached the kitchen I tossed the empty bottles into the recycling bin and grabbed two more beers out of the fridge. I opened both bottles and headed back to the bedroom.
When I reentered the room I found Leon standing on the bed, with a spiral notebook in one hand, swearing and swinging wildly at something near his head.
"Die, you fucker!" he shouted, as the front of the notebook smacked against the ceiling.
"Chill out, Kennedy. It was only a two-minute minor. We've got the third best penalty kill in the league. Not to mention arguably the best goalie to ever play the game. It'll be okay," I said.
Leon hopped off the bed and tossed the notebook-turned-melee-weapon to the ground. "Very funny."
I sort of smirked at him as my way of responding to his remark. My way of letting him know I had taken the statement as a compliment, even though he clearly hadn't meant it as one.
"Damn moths," he muttered, taking a step toward me and reaching for one of the bottles I held.
I chuckled a little and shook my head at his antics, reclaiming my seat in his swivel chair.
Leon sat down at the edge of his bed once again.
"I'm serious. It's a..." His voice trailed off. "Conspiracy? No, that's not right. An epidemic? Nah. Shit. What's the word I'm looking for?"
"Infestation?" I wondered.
Leon sort scrunched his face up and shook his head. "No. I don't think that's it. I guess it works, though."
We were silent for a moment, eyes fixed on the television. They'd come back from commercial. The game was back on. I had to remind myself that was why I was in Leon's room right now - to watch a hockey game with him. Nothing more. Although he did show me his underwear. But he didn't mean to. So what? He showed them to me. It counts.
I saw Leon's undies. I saw Leon's undies.
Goddamnit.
Just as I was cursing myself for my juvenile thoughts, Leon exclaimed, "Invasion!"
"What?" I asked.
"That's the word I was looking for," he explained.
I laughed a little. "Is it really?"
"Yeah. Why?" he asked.
"It's just that one wouldn't necessarily call having a few moths in their apartment an invasion," I pointed out.
"Ah, what do you know?" he asked, taking a big swig of his beer.
"Well, for starters..." I began, coolly, smugly, and thinking, I know what color your underwear are. I was quickly interrupted though, as the most gigantic moth I have ever seen nearly flew into my open mouth. "Holy shit!" I wiped my mouth and shook my head.
Rather than make fun of me, or tell me 'I told you so' Leon simply stood up and reached for his trusty notebook, saying only, (to the moth, mind you) "I thought I took care of you." Leon then addressed me, "Hold this, okay?"
I took the beer bottle from his hand, our fingers touching and our eyes meeting for just a second, before his gaze was drawn up to the ceiling, to my insect attacker.
I heard the familiar slapping sound of the notebook connecting with plaster, followed immediately by a triumphant little chuckle. Clearly, the threat had been neutralized, thanks to Leon's efforts. I wondered why he was so passionate about killing the stupid thing. Did he have a run-in with a giant moth in Raccoon City or something? You know what, he probably did.
It was in that moment that I realized moth-killer Leon is a force to be reckoned with. It gave me some more insight as to what he'd have been like as a cop. Something I really need to quit thinking about, as he swears he isn't cut out for that anymore, "...if he ever was."
One thing's for sure, I never want to be arrested by cop Leon but roommate Leon can "arrest" me whenever he wants and for whatever reason.
Oh boy. Well, It seems I've managed to find a connection between moth-killer Leon and cop Leon. Now if I could just turn roommate Leon into boyfriend Leon, I'd be set.
You know, pretty soon my ever-growing feelings for each and every Leon are gonna need their own zip code. Because, as the period was winding down, I was still mentally reciting, I saw Leon's undies. In fact, I had come up with a tune to go with it. I saw Le-on's un-dies. I saw Le-on's un-dies.
During the intermission Leon grabbed us two more beers, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Most of them involved him and were sufficiently perverted as a result.
When did this harmless crush of mine get so out of control?
I tried to force those oh-so-inappropriate musings out of my head somehow. I had to busy myself, entertain myself. Find something else to focus my energy on. I pondered looking through that notebook of Leon's, but didn't do it because I'd be livid if someone went through my things without my permission. In the end I just spun myself around in his swivel chair to the point that I nearly puked all over the place.
I was beyond dizzy when Leon returned. I can only imagine what I must've looked like, sprawled out on the chair, arms and legs limp as overcooked spaghetti, staring up at the ceiling, mouth agape and groaning. Pretty funny looking, I'm thinking, if the way Leon laughed at me was any indication.
He was quick to lean in and sweetly ask me if I was okay.
I gave a weak nod and instinctively extended my hand for another beer.
Leon extended his hand as well. Didn't give me another beer, though. Instead he helped me to stand and escorted me to his bed.
"Okay... The computer chair is off-limits for the rest of the night," he said, simply.
"Fine by me," I agreed, still feeling a little woozy. That wooziness showed, as I stumbled a bit before plopping myself down on the bed. "So, only drunk girls get to sit on the bed, eh, Kennedy?" I joked.
Leon laughed. "You crack me up, Claire. You don't hold anything back with me. That's what I love about you." He shot me a big smile and gave me a little nudge.
My wooziness was gone, replaced with a slightly different sensation in my stomach. The proverbial "butterflies," I suppose. I didn't quite know how to respond to what Leon had said. I took a minute to try and figure out how to tell him what had been there since our first meeting, but for some reason, had always gone unsaid.
"I don't have to hold anything back with you," I said, quietly. "That's what I love about you."
