Still don't own any of the characters or anything.
I owe some credit to my reviewer, Evil, because I didn't have a firm idea of where I wanted to go with this, but his/her review got me thinking.
"God, I'm gonna miss you so much, Claire," Leon said, shaking his head. A wistful smile had set up camp on his face. His beautiful boyish face.
"Miss me? I'm not going anywhere," I said, swaying a bit.
Buzzed and enjoying it. Except for not being able to think straight, and thus, not being able to comprehend what Leon was saying to me. Other than that I was enjoying it.
"I know," he said, seeming like he wanted to say something more, but didn't.
"Then why are you gonna miss me? Not planning on ditching me, are you?" I asked. I meant to sound playful, but instead I came off as whiny.
Needy. Pathetic. Scared.
I told myself he wouldn't ditch me. But I didn't quite believe it. I knew as well as Leon did, that he'd leave if he had a good enough reason.
I know, I know, this was only a temporary thing anyway. I knew from the get-go we weren't gonna live together like this forever. Not me with my boring, normal part-time job, and plans to get back into school next fall. Not Leon, doing whatever it is he does. He's never really said. He'll just up and leave and be gone for a couple days, come back with a few cuts and bruises, take a long shower, sleep a whole day then it's business as usual again. He doesn't come out and tell me where he's been and under whose orders he went, and I don't ask. I mean, I get the gist of it.
The enemy is still out there and he's still fighting that enemy. It's what he was trained to do, after all. Right the wrongs of the world. Fight those who are just asking to have their asses kicked. I'd like to think he's paid his dues, gone above and beyond the call of duty, but I know better than to believe he's slowing down anytime soon.
I know that to genuinely believe that Leon would turn the other cheek, like Chris had all but insisted I do, is just plain stupid. A silly dream, played out far too long. The idea that we could have just a few short months of peace, or something resembling normalcy - how dare us for even thinking it.
"No, Claire. I'm not ditching you. I'd never," Leon said seriously, solemnly.
"Then you're not going anywhere?" I asked, tentatively.
I don't know why I insisted on dragging this out. I don't know what I expected Leon to say.
Though hockey clearly wasn't a priority anymore, I could still hear the game in the background. My ears had tuned into the sounds of the crowd. A mixture of cheering and booing, because one man's victory is always another man's bitter defeat.
"I'm not ditching you. It's just, I got this offer a couple weeks ago. Seems my anti-Umbrella efforts got their attention. Guess I'm the kind of guy they've been looking for," Leon began explaining, seeming in a hurry to get the words out of his mouth.
"Is that so? What exactly were they looking for?" I asked.
"Someone with a military background, or law enforcement training, or something like that. My being so anti-Umbrella doesn't hurt either. I guess they've had their sights on me for a while." He absently ran a hand through his hair.
"So, they recruited you?" I asked.
Leon exhaled slowly, and said, "Yeah. More or less."
Knowing better than to ask if Leon was leaving, I chose instead to ask, "When are you leaving?"
"A week from tomorrow."
I stood up. "'Night, Leon," I muttered, stomping my way out of his room.
He didn't so much as move. Didn't protest, didn't follow me. Nothing. A moment later I could hear the sound of his door closing. He didn't even slam it.
Was I not worthy of a door slam? The nerve of that guy. He's so fucking dense sometimes. I mean, I love him, but-
I mean, I love him.
I love him.
And he doesn't have a fucking clue.
I stomped my way to my bedroom, slammed my door, and angrily plopped myself down on the bed. I laid down and stared up at the ceiling. My nose had already started to stuff up, as my eyes welled up with tears.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. Any of it. My life wasn't supposed to be like this. A simple trip to see my brother wasn't supposed to turn into a dirty, cheap, no-holds-barred, nothing sacred kind of fight just to survive.
And after we got out... After we escaped... I mean, wasn't that supposed to have been the worst of it? Weren't things supposed to get better after that?
I think back to this vision I have of what should've happened. As far back as I allow myself to go, anyway. I can't go back to who I was before Raccoon City, much as I'd like to sometimes.
In this vision of mine, I'd go off and find Chris - maybe even save him in the process, proving once and for all that Claire Redfield can bring it. Leon and Sherry would get settled in somewhere nice. Some unassuming little place we could all call home. We'd take care of Sherry - be her all-too-hip parent-types. All her friends would express just the right amount of envy about it too. Just enough to help her forget she's an orphan. They'd drool over Leon. (What red-blooded girl wouldn't?) They'd think I was just so damn cool and secretly aspire to be like me. Why, I don't know. I never really focused on the details of that one. Whoops.
Now, I'm no idiot. I know that was never a reasonable wish. I've known it all along.
Just like I know Leon made the right choice. Much as it hurt to ask him, "Where's Sherry?" and be told, "She's gone, Claire." I knew the second he said it, that he had done what he had to do.
I doubt I'd have been strong enough to do it. Any of it. To tell the so-called government agent that approached them to fuck off. To escort Sherry halfway across the country and turn her over to the relative he'd handpicked to take care of her, because he knew he couldn't. To tell them both to change their names and for Sherry never contact him (or me) ever again, because it wasn't safe. To watch their backs, because rest assured, others were watching Sherry too. To say goodbye to her.
I'm glad I wasn't there to do it and I'm damn pissed I have to be here to say it to Leon.
Fuck it, I thought I'm not leaving my bedroom for the next week. He can slide a note under my door if he thinks this is goodbye.
I heard a light knock a few minutes later. I sat up, angry - more at myself and the world than Leon. I was red-faced, my cheeks colored with that anger and stained with my tears.
I wiped my face quickly with my palms and shouted a less-than-inviting, "What?"
Leon didn't answer, not verbally anyway. His response was to open my door and stroll into my room.
I looked over his way, but didn't say anything. I was still upset, obviously, and too focused on whether or not he'd be able to tell I was crying.
He walked over to my bed, carefully avoiding the mess, sidestepping the clothes, shoes, magazines, and sketchbooks like a pro.
"I said 'What?' not 'Come in,'" I muttered.
He held his hand out to me. My beer. I'd left it behind in his room.
I took it from him. I made sure not to touch his hand this time. "You could've just dumped it out, or had it yourself, you know? You didn't have to-"
Leon cut me off. "I needed an excuse to come barging into your room."
He sat down on my bed, so close to me that I could feel his leg against mine. Denim, softened over time, but still rough, brushing against my bare skin.
"I don't believe this," I practically hissed.
"What do you want from me, Claire? Was I supposed to consult you before I told them yes? Or should I have just said no? You know, I'm beginning to understand why you and Chris were at each other's throats all the time," Leon said, sharply, and his meaning hit me like a ton of bricks.
"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, in an I can't believe you said that tone, as if I didn't already know what he was getting at.
"You're not always the easiest person to be close to," Leon said simply. Simply, and very clearly without apology.
"What would you know about that? And why the hell do you care? You're almost outta here anyway. What the hell difference does it make to you, huh? If I'm so difficult to be close to. Since when did you even care?"
"Since always. And don't get all high and mighty on me. Yeah, I said it. You're hard as hell to be close to. But it's still not half as hard as not being close to you," Leon said, forcefully, but in an even tone.
I looked up from staring at my own legs and into Leon's eyes. He seemed to be squinting slightly, was scowling and his cheeks were a bit flushed. Flushed in frustration I would assume. We sat there on my bed, touching but feeling worlds apart, not speaking.
I looked down at my beer, which was still full, as if thinking the answer might be in there. "This sucks," I finally mumbled.
"Kinda, yeah," Leon agreed, sort of sheepishly. He was quick to add, "But it's important, you know?"
"I know. That's why it sucks so much. How can I be mad at you for leaving when I know you have to do it?" I asked.
I wasn't asking Leon, though, really. I was asking myself.
"I don't know. You tell me," he remarked.
"Oh, shut up, Leon," I grumbled, stuck somewhere between wanting to smile at him and hit him. "This is hard for me, you know?"
"I know," he said, softly.
"I mean..." My voice faded out. "When you said what you loved about me, I didn't think you were gonna follow it up with, 'Guess what? I'm leaving next week.'"
"Believe it or not, that's not how I was planning on following it up either," he admitted, with a chuckle.
"Oh really? Do tell, Mr. Kennedy," I said, mockingly and a bit snottier than I had intended. "How were you gonna follow it up?"
I smirked at Leon, but before the look could settle in on my face, he'd wiped it away. His thumbs brushed against the corners of my mouth, trying to fashion something pleasant out of my sour expression, no doubt. Or maybe I had little crusties there and he was trying to slyly wipe them away before he kissed me. Because really, who wants to make out with that?
Leon was so gentle - the type of guy who's so good he doesn't have to be forceful, or aggressive. He gave me a slow, soft kiss, not even trying to force his tongue into my mouth. Something I'd have been A-OK with, by the way. He backed up just a bit, looked me up and down, and took the beer bottle out of my hands.
I'd forgotten I was even holding it.
He made a point of showing me he wasn't done with me, he was just getting that out of the way.
Before I knew it, Leon was back on the edge of my bed, kissing me, and his warm hands were pulling my jersey up. He broke the kiss just long enough to ease it over my head. I felt his fingers crawling up my back and his lips against mine once again, as he unhooked my bra. Expertly unhooked my bra. Before he could take my bra off, I'd reached for him, forcing him to pause and let me unceremoniously yank his t-shirt off. I'm definitely not as skilled at removing another person's clothing as he is.
He slid my bra off and I ran my hands down his chest, past toned and baby-butt smooth abs, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. I could feel his lips curve into a smile at that. He stood up and pulled me up with him. He undid my fly and we simultaneously stepped out of our jeans.
Leon pulled away from our kissing - which had gotten rather intense - and murmured, "You know what happens next, right?"
You do a couple of turns and let me get a good look at you? Or how about you leave me all hot and bothered to go grab a condom? I thought to myself. "Yeah. I know," I whispered, tugging at the waistband of his boxers.
I think I can figure out what happens next.
