Leon was running uncharacteristically late for work. He'd been through another night haunted by infected, sewer monsters, pus, blood, rotting flesh, cannibalism… It was a wonder he ever managed to get out of bed on time.
In his rush, he didn't have time for his typical circuitous walking route to work, which he took in order to stop at the chain coffee shop that was along the way. That left him to take the less familiar but more direct route. As he strode up the street, he approached a small bakery he'd never taken notice of before. It was wedged between a law firm and a laundromat – a pretty great location for attracting people in need of snacks and caffeine – and was simply decorated with pastel green awnings and a variety of flowers in the windows and along the storefront. He ducked inside, deciding potentially over-priced coffee was better than no coffee.
Behind the counter was a single woman with red hair thrown up into a bun. Wisps of loose hair were held back by a thin black headband with cat ears sticking out of the top. It matched the plain black t-shirt she wore tucked into a pair of oversized jeans. A black belt sat snug on her shapely hips. She smiled as she chatted with each customer in the short queue, other patrons already seated in the scattering of tables around the small indoor space. The smells filling the space were incredibly enticing – coffee, sugar, cream, chocolate, berries, lime, and butter. A growl from his stomach was thankfully lost to the chatter of people in the bakery, but served its purpose of reminding Leon that he also hadn't eaten breakfast.
Before he had time to look at the menu and find a solution to his newly realized hunger, he was stepping forward to the front of the line.
"Good morning!" the redhead greeted. Her voice was a touch lower than the average woman's. Despite the early hour, it was also bright and cheery. She flashed him a smile and there was a playful twinkle in her honey-brown eyes. "And welcome, newcomer!"
Leon chuckled and replied, "Thanks, though I hope you didn't recognize that I'm new because I look lost or something."
"Nope," she answered, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "I just know my customers, and you aren't one. Yet. What can I get to convert you?"
The blond grinned at her playfulness and placed his order – a rather uninspired coffee that had become standard in his busy, highly organized life. She rang him up, charging a rather decent price which surprised him coming from a local place, and turned to begin prepping the beverage.
Leon glanced at his watch, noting that if he walked at a brisk enough pace, he'd still make it to work on time. The thought had no sooner crossed his mind when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He flipped it open, reading the message that had just come through and barely containing his groan of annoyance. Apparently, not being early meant being late today because there was an urgent briefing he needed to be at.
"Here ya go." Leon lifted his eyes at the woman's voice. His brows knit in confusion when he saw each hand extended toward him, one with his coffee and the other with a paper bag. "I didn't-"
"Consider it part of my efforts to convert you," the redhead cut him off firmly. "Or maybe as a stroke of good luck to balance out whatever shit just came through that phone of yours. Either way, take it. You don't have any allergies, do you?"
Leon shook his head in the negative, taking each of the offered items. He didn't know what was most surprising: a pretty bakery woman cursing, her perceptiveness, her generosity, or how good whatever was in the bag smelled. Deciding to just run with it, he replied, "Thanks. I'll take it into consideration when deciding if the role of full-time customer is a good fit."
The agent knew he was a natural flirt, but evidently so was the woman across the counter. She winked at him and said, "I'll plan to see you again then."
Another chuckle tumbled from his lips and he smiled at her. They parted with more typical pleasantries and then she turned her sights to the next person in line. As he strode out of the bakery and back onto the busy street, Leon couldn't help but think she was speaking to the next patron a bit more neutrally. Another buzz from his phone pulled his attention away from the delightfully normal, pleasant interaction.
Setting off at a quick pace, Leon continued his trek to work. His mind was turning over what the briefing might contain, thinking about the intel that had surfaced recently and the theories which had been swapped among the department. Absently, he lifted the cup to his lips. The coffee was heady and aromatic, the flavor not too bitter yet full and strong. It was way better than the chain shop he frequented.
Curious and distracted now, he peeked into the paper bag. Inside, tucked into a nest of napkins, was a muffin. He plucked it from the bag, smiling when it was still a bit warm. The smell of sugar and nuttiness reached his nose, and upon closer inspection he had to huff yet another laugh. It was a pistachio muffin baked in a green paper cup featuring cartoon dinosaurs. Whoever ran the bakery was seemingly just as quirky as the woman working the counter.
Practically jogging up to the security check, Leon fished his badge out of his pants pocket with one hand while the other managed to balance his coffee while bringing the confection to his lips. Even from the first bite, he knew he'd indeed be seeing the redhead again soon enough.
Soon enough ended up being several weeks later thanks to high work demands. The President and his family had been travelling which meant Leon was travelling. Some domestic destinations, some international. Protective detail was exhausting in a different way than his usual undercover operations. Always having to be "on" both in terms of being ever vigilant of his surroundings and anything that might threaten any member of the president's family, but also knowing that all the eyes on the President would also be on him. The weight of the attention was more stifling than the stuffy suits he had to wear for those jobs.
Still, the weeks had passed uneventfully and he was back home in D.C., excited as he set out on his new route to work. It wasn't until he saw the little storefront with its bright awnings that he realized there was no guarantee that the redhead would even be working. He mentally shrugged; either way there would be coffee well worth the extra twenty-five cents compared to the chain coffee shop a few blocks over.
Leon pushed open the bakery door and stepped inside, the scent of apples, cinnamon, icing, and coffee grounds hitting his senses. Did they have a rotating menu?
The redhead from last time was behind the counter again. She was wearing a dark green plaid skirt that fell to the floor, a simple black tank top tucked in at the waist. Her hair was in a bun with a matching green handkerchief tied in a fluffy bow at the top of her head. When the bell above the door announced his arrival, she glanced up then returned to the woman she was helping. After a beat, she looked back, realizing she recognized him and flashing him a grin. Leon was impressed – she must not have been exaggerating her ability to spot repeat customers.
He waited in the line which moved according to the redhead's efficient pace. In short order, he was at the counter.
"You know, I thought I'd failed in my efforts to turn you over to the sugary side," she said by way of greeting, a teasing lilt to her voice. "Did you decide to give us another try?"
"I was converted after last time," Leon admitted. "I've been out of town, though."
"Well, glad to have you back," the woman replied earnestly. "Dark roast, black, light sugar, yeah?"
Bright blue eyes blinked in surprise. "Yeah. How on earth did you remember that?"
"I'm just that good," she said with a grin and a flirty wink. She turned and began fixing his coffee while he dug out his wallet and began pulling the correct number of bills from it. They exchanged money and change and while he was repocketing his wallet, the woman produced seemingly from nowhere another paper bag. Seeing him about to argue, she headed him off with a tut of her tongue. "All new recruits get a freebie. Congrats on the successful conversion, my dude."
Leon laughed and accepted the bag and his coffee. "Fine, fine, but no more bribes. Honestly, I don't need further convincing."
"I'll start making recommendations instead," she promised.
He nodded. "I'll look forward to hearing them."
"'Til next time then."
"'Til next time," he agreed.
Immediately upon clearing security Leon was swept up into a series of meetings, his coffee and mysterious gift ending up forgotten in his office until the early afternoon. Luckily, the flavor of the coffee was good enough that it was still tasty cold. Not a total loss. The agent curiously unfolded the top of the paper bag, peering inside. This time she had selected a rather large chocolate chip cookie. He smiled; she couldn't have known that he wouldn't get to the treat until much later, but the non-breakfast item was quite fitting. And, as it turned out, it was also delicious. It was soft, not too sweet, and full of chocolate morsels. There was something different about them, too. Looking more closely, he saw a mixture of milk and dark chocolate chips. Leaning back in his desk chair nibbling at the cookie between sips of coffee, Leon reflected on how many years he had lived in D.C. without visiting the little bakery with its talented baker and its bright, friendly barista.
Over the next couple of months, Leon came to learn that the redhead was always manning the counter. He'd even stopped in on a couple of Saturdays that he had to work. She would often make a playful comment about him working too hard which prompted him to point out that she was always at work as well. It was that first Saturday morning that he learned the bakery was open Monday through Friday from 6am until 4pm and Saturdays 7am until noon. He filed that information away for the days he needed a midday caffeine boost.
"No problem! Take care, Margaret," the redhead waved at the older woman who was in front of Leon in line, sending her off with a smile.
He stepped up and asked, "You remember faces, orders, and names?"
The redhead's grin widened and she smirked at him, popping out a hip in the way he learned to mean she was feeling particularly playful. "Of course! At least of my loyal followers who have shared their name with me."
He hummed his understanding and asked, "Is that the majority?"
She shrugged, moving to begin fixing his coffee. "A fair number. Any food today?"
"Not today," he responded.
A glance over her shoulder allowed their eyes to meet. "Hopefully that apricot hand pie didn't turn you off?"
He shook his head in the negative. "No, it was great. I just won't have time to eat anything and don't want to be wasteful."
The redhead turned back to him with a frown as she fixed the lid over the cup of steaming liquid. "Your bosses seriously work you too hard. No time to eat is just cruel."
Leon shrugged indifferently. "It is what it is."
Her lips pressed in a line, clearly wanting to say something but not knowing if she should. He saved her the indecision by handing her the required amount of money and saying, "I'm Leon, by the way."
As he hoped, her expression instantly brightened. She counted out his change and placed the coins in his palm. "Well, Leon, I'm Bryony. People just call be Bry, though."
"Bryony," he tested out the unique name, enjoying how it rolled across his tongue. "That's pretty."
To his surprise, light pink dusted her cheeks at his comment. With an exaggerated huff, she joked, "Yeah, yeah, pretty weird. Anyway, don't work too hard, okay, Leon?"
"I'll do my best," he promised. "Thanks, Bry."
Leon was torn. He was exhausted and he wanted desperately to head to his little studio apartment, fall into his sheets, and sleep for the entire 48-hours he was granted leave. He'd just returned from a thoroughly draining assignment. There had been whispers of a domestic bioterrorist threat with a plot to storm a political convention the President and several other cabinet members had to attend. The group was larger than anticipated; every corner of the convention center and the subway maintenance tunnels had been crawling with enemies. Leon's squad had taken them down and thwarted their plot, but not without hours of tracking, bio-bomb defusing, and combat. His legs ached from running, his right shoulder throbbed from the drop rolls he'd been forced into to pursue a group through a tunnel, and his knuckles still pulsed from contact with flesh and bone.
His stomach also ached with hunger. He hadn't eaten since dinner the night before the convention and it was now just after 4am. The war between sleep and hunger was resolved by remembering the convenience store he had to pass on his way home. He would stop, pick up a shitty ready-made sandwich, inhale it during the rest of his walk home, and then pass out as soon as he could get his boots off.
Leon turned into the convenience store and bee-lined for the cooler of to-go meals. A desperate whine breathed through his lips when he found it empty. His stomach twisted with displeasure and all the pain, hunger, and fatigue had the back of his eyes prickling.
"Leon?"
His head swung to see a familiar redhead a few feet down the aisle. "Bry?"
"What on earth…?" she questioned, eyes skimming up and down his form several times. He was suddenly aware of the cuts and bruises marring his exposed forearms, the unkempt state of his hair, and the distraught expression on his face. "Are you alright?"
He nodded, turning back to the empty cooler in the hopes perhaps there would be a sandwich there that he hadn't seen at first. No such luck. With a sigh, he found it in himself to ask, "What are you doing out so early?"
"The bakery needs eggs and we don't get a delivery until tomorrow," she replied absently, still assessing him with a critical gaze. "Follow me."
He did as he was told, too tired to consider why he was following her orders. The cashier checked her out quickly, bagging several cartons of eggs which she shooed Leon away from when he made to carry them for her. On heavy feet, he followed her the block and a half to the bakery.
Looking up at the green awnings, he asked, "Can we even get in this early?"
Bry looked at him with a brow lifted. "Of course we can."
She held up a ring of keys, jingling them for emphasis. Leon watched as she slotted one of the keys in the door and let them inside. The lights flickered on when she nudged the switch and she placed a hand in the crook of his elbow. With a surprisingly gentle touch, she guided him to the little reading nook in the corner of the room, pushing him down into one of the plush armchairs there.
"Give me ten minutes," she directed. "Take a pillow and sleep in the meantime if you want."
The blond watched her disappear behind the counter and into the kitchen, noticing for the first time that her hair was down. It was surprisingly long, falling in waves down to the middle of her back. The red color was pretty, even under the artificial light. It shone, a rich ginger color with faint touches of blond just visible as the waves bounced with her steps. Leon had always had a thing for dark haired women, but he suddenly found red to be quite an enticing color as well.
The blond didn't realize he had fallen asleep, head tipped over the back of the chair, until he was jerking awake at the smell of food. Bryony was placing a plate loaded with food onto the little table beside the armchair. There was an asiago bagel sliced in half and stuffed with a fried egg, cheese, spinach, and sliced tomato. Beside it on the plate was a mound of scrambled eggs topped with cheese and some sort of fresh herb. His mouth was watering and his stomach knotted at the promise of food.
"It's more protein and fat heavy than I'd normally make," she prefaced. "But by the looks of you, your body needs it. Rebuild and restore, right?"
He nodded, reaching for the plate without delay. "It smells amazing."
She turned and disappeared behind the counter again, returning a few moments later with a cup of something that smelled earthy. He flushed when he realized that he had already polished off the entire sandwich and half of the scrambled eggs in the short time she was gone.
"Glad the food was edible," the redhead said with a laugh.
"It tastes great," Leon replied earnestly, trying to consciously slow his pace with the remainder of the food.
"Sweet is more my forte, but I do savory alright, too." Bry shrugged. Setting down the cup, she explained, "This is ginger and lemongrass herbal tea. It's good for pain and inflammation."
"Thank you," he murmured, reminded again of what a sight he must be and considering for the first time what she must be thinking.
Bry took a seat on the little sofa situated perpendicular to the armchair. He didn't miss how her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall.
"Sorry," Leon spoke up again, drawing her honey gaze. "I must be keeping you from work."
With a shrug, she sunk further into the cozy couch. "It's okay. The prep team came in last night, so I don't have a whole lot to do."
Leon loaded his fork with more eggs but paused before bringing the utensil to his mouth to ask, "Prep team? Isn't there a baker that comes in during the off hours?"
"You're looking at her."
His brows shot up. "You bake everything?"
"It would be no fun owning a bakery I didn't even get to bake in," Bryony explained with another shrug.
"You own…?" She dug the key ring out of her pocket and jingled them again in response. Leon frowned. "I never realized."
"No? I mean, the name is a play on mine."
Briars and Breads. Bryony. Oh, god, he was stupid. Heat flooded his cheeks, earning another laugh from his companion. "So you own the place, bake everything, and work the counter all day every day you're open?"
She nodded, long red hair dancing over her shoulders. "It takes a lot of capital to add employees. I plan to within the year, but not yet. Just adding the prep team was a huge undertaking, but it does make my life way easier when ingredients are prepped, measured, organized, and doughs are made and risen when I arrive in the morning."
Leon was thoroughly impressed. He was pretty sure they were of a similar age and she had accomplished a lot. "That's amazing, Bry."
He finished the eggs and swapped the empty plate for the cup of tea. There was a sharpness and a touch of heat to the flavor which he didn't necessarily enjoy, but he appreciated her thoughtful selection meant for pain relief.
"I keep telling you how cool I am," she teased with a smirk.
The blond offered a tired smile and said, "I believe you, but clearly just can't grasp the extent of your coolness."
Bry laughed and waved him off. "Drink up so you can head home and get some rest before I blow your mind again, yeah?"
He snorted into the tea, tickled as ever by her sass. Quickly downing the tea, he looked back at her. "Can I help clean up?"
"Nope," she popped the 'p' in her reply. "Just head home, rest, then tell your fed bosses to go easy on you until you're properly rested, okay?"
His eyes widened in surprise at her statement. "I'm not-"
She rolled her eyes at him and his protest died on his tongue. "Leon. C'mon. You're obviously a fed. Even before this, I assumed you were. I just didn't realize you're… this kinda fed."
He clenched his teeth in a grimace. Carefully, he said, "I can't tell you about what I do."
"And I'm not asking," she assured. "I know enough. You sure you're alright? You'll make it home and be okay?"
"Yeah," Leon nodded. He braced his palms on his knees, gathered the last dredges of energy and will, and pushed himself up to his feet. "Thank you again, Bry. I really appreciate it. I'll pay you back next time I stop in."
She waved off the promise and stood. With one last critical sweep of her eyes over his form, she asked, "You have pain killers at home? Bandages? Hydrogen peroxide?"
He hummed his confirmation and said, "I'll take care of everything and rest, don't worry."
"Don't forget. Even small cuts can become infected, and it could happen while you're sleeping all this off."
With another nod, Leon vowed, "I will take care of everything before sleeping. Honest."
"Okay," she finally allowed. "Take good care, Leon."
"You, too. Thank you," he said again, hoping she understood how appreciated her kindness was. He led a rather lonely life and had taken care of himself for a long time. It meant a lot that she was so concerned for him, one of many acquaintances she had through her business. The thought was leading him down a painful and existential path that he didn't have the energy or emotional capacity to tread. So instead, he offered Bryony one last smile before making his exit to finally return home. At least this time as his boots hit the sidewalk his stomach was full.
Leon nodded numbly along with the blonde woman seated at the table across from him. Blue eyes skimmed over her face, noting the animated expression as she talked. She was an exceptionally nice woman if dinner was any indication – polite with a pretty laugh and a kind inquisitiveness. Plus, she was really quite attractive. Willowy with bright greens eyes and a choppy, on-trend haircut. His colleague had not undersold her personality or appearance when he was convincing Leon to agree to the blind date.
Yet he felt nothing. Not really anyway. She was attractive and if she was on the same page, he wouldn't mind finally getting some sexual release from a source other than his own hand. But a connection? Not at all. She was too innocent, too naïve about the world. There was too much curiosity about his work, about his past. There was no way he could tell her about all of the fucked up shit he'd seen and done in Raccoon City. He couldn't imagine how he'd navigate all of the secrets he had to keep for his job or how he could grow a relationship with someone when he'd continue having to disappear for days at a time only to come back torn up and bruised with even more secrets. At least not with a civilian someone.
Leon and his colleagues did occasionally commiserate about the difficulties of dating as Special Agents for the federal government. Secrets, trauma, an unpredictable and sometimes unforgiving schedule, politics, stress… it was a lot to place on a romantic partner. Most guys still tried, certain there were ways to make relationships work despite the craziness being an agent entailed. Some recommended seeking out women who also had high-stress jobs like ER nurses or careers with unusual schedules like flight attendants. Others were convinced the best options were women who were totally normal, because they as agents needed more normal. Leon found himself wondering if any relationship was viable with his life and history, and so did very little dating.
The other agents often teased him about his lackluster love life, saying he was wasting his 20s and his "boy band good looks" by not going on more dates. Leon typically just shrugged them off. It's not like he never picked up a woman at a bar to scratch the itch for sexual gratification and human connection, and it wasn't as if he actively felt the need to be in a relationship. But he was lonely and part of him was afraid he would always be alone, so he finally gave in to another agent's pestering and agreed to a blind date. It had done very little for his opinion on dating given his unusual lifestyle and had done even less for his dwindling hopes of not ending up alone.
Cara was a nice woman and Leon was sure she'd make someone a very happy, fulfilled man. But it wouldn't be him.
"Are you working a later shift today, Leon?"
The blond man shook his head in the negative. "No, I'm actually just getting off. Well, going home anyway."
"Well, shit," Bry frowned. "Going home after who knows how long, but still not off the hook?"
He shrugged. "Reports don't write themselves."
"Are you secretly a masochist?" the redhead questioned as she shifted to begin making his coffee.
A small smile pulled at his lips. Leon replied, "I'm beginning to think maybe I am."
"D'you need to get the report done soon? Like… need an espresso shot soon?"
He thought over the question before sighing. "Wouldn't hurt."
"Dude, you've gotta work on your boundaries. I know you're a fed but like… the government doesn't own you and all of your time, ya know?"
"I think they'd probably disagree with that."
Bryony threw him a look over her shoulder and said, "Well, fuck them."
Leon chuckled and took a moment to observe her outfit. He'd come to enjoy the way her personality shone through in her appearance. She wore low rise jeans and a cropped Nirvana t-shirt. The outfit revealed her surprisingly lean midriff, visible muscles creating soft lines beneath her skin. A blond brow rose with curiosity, wondering about what kept a baker motivated to stay so fit. He had wondered in passing about her figure. She was curvy throughout her lower body with a slim torso and lean arms. Her arms having some visible musculature had made sense; he assumed there was a lot of heavy lifting one must do as a baker. Now he found himself wondering how much of her lower body was also toned muscle rather than natural shape or a by-product of being in the business of confections.
"Heads up, Leon," Bry called with just enough time for him to raise his hands into position to catch the brown paper bag she had tossed his way.
"You give me way too many freebies," he said to her retreating back.
The redhead was adding the freshly frothed milk to his coffee (she had turned him onto this a few months back) and so she didn't look back at him when she said, "I have my methods with my regulars. Don't question me."
Leon chuckled and looked around the nearly empty shop. He supposed he had stopped by rather late in the afternoon as the last customers of the day were probably heading out. A glance at his watch confirmed this and reminded him of how tired he was. Hence the coffee stop before he finished up his paperwork at home.
"Maybe I could use a sugar rush," he admitted.
Bryony moved back over to the counter, sliding his coffee toward him. With a wink she asserted, "See? I have my methods. I know you and supply what's needed."
"I'll pay for your well-informed recommendations, you know."
Bry propped her elbows up on the counter, resting her chin in her hands. With a smirk and a playful gleam in her honey-brown eyes, she replied, "Leon, you're a delightful, overly-regimented square. If I don't force spontaneous sugar on you, it won't happen. Plus, you're a fabulous guinea pig for my new recipes, so if it pleases you, you can think of this as helping me out."
He frowned and argued, "I'm not a square."
Her eyes scanned up and down him once before she said, "I'll give it to you that there aren't many hot feds, but you wear the same things every day, come into the shop at the near exact time every morning aside from occasional days like today. You rarely have a hair out of place, have the dullest, safest coffee order ever, and literally never even experiment between roasts."
A light flush rose to his cheeks at her rather spot-on evaluation. "I guess I'm a bit boring."
A wicked smile turned her lips. "I never said you're boring." She didn't pause long enough to consider the implication of her words and her expression before she said, "Anyway, off you go. Finish your reports and get some sleep."
Leon sent her a grateful smile, picking up his coffee and wishing her a good day. It wasn't until he was slotting his key into the door of his apartment when he paused, wondering aloud, "She thinks I'm hot?"
Take some time off, Leon.
The blond grit his teeth as his boss's directive replayed in his mind. He didn't want to take time off. No work meant no distractions. No distractions meant images of a burning corpse on a cross, Luis's limp body still holding a smoking cigarette, red eyes, bloody chainsaws, the hallucinations and fogginess of the Plaga, and so much gore dancing across the veil of his vision. Nothing made it go away. Not sleep, not whiskey, not television – nothing. He couldn't even bring himself to keep any kind of schedule. Leon felt out of control yet entirely without energy to try to take control back.
He hadn't experienced this after Raccoon City, but he also didn't really have the time. He'd needed to take care of Sherry, had to find them somewhere to live, had to figure out so many logistics from having his life totally torn apart. Even once it was just him again, he had to work out a new job, relocate, rebuild. Sure, he'd had nightmares almost every night, had been jumpy and anxious in public for a while, had no interest in making friends in his new city. But that had all been manageable and had eventually passed because he was distracted and productive and out doing things that needed doing. His life had come to revolve around work and being forced to take leave meant he had nothing to fall back on. Nobody needed him so he had nothing to rally around.
You need to get your head right after all that shit.
His head hadn't been right since Raccoon City. Not really, anyway. And that was fine. He was functional, he had friends at work, cared a lot about people. He was damaged goods and could do things other people couldn't. The t-Virus ordeal had rewired his brain and cracked his hopeful, idealistic spirit. Now, he could be put in situations and roles that would break others without issue. So why had he been benched for the very thing that made him an asset? Why couldn't he just keep on going, shielding the undamaged from whatever fucked up mission they had next?
On some level, Leon knew that the powers that be would always call on him to do those fucked up missions. Spain had been proof enough of that. Of all the special agents in the organization, they chose him – the only one who had survived a bioweapon-led massacre. The likelihood of another incident arising so soon was negligible. He probably wouldn't be called upon again for some time, but he needed to be needed.
"Fuck," he hissed, picking his head up from his pillow for the first time in an untold number of hours. His neck was stiff and achy from lack of movement. His hand went to his nape to massage the sore area and he grimaced at the discovery of how greasy his hair had become.
Instead of getting up and rushing to the shower, the blond flopped back into his pillows and merely rolled over to his other side. His legs tangled uncomfortably in his sheets. On some level, he knew he was probably hungry – definitely had to be thirsty – but he just let his eyes fall closed. There was very little food in his apartment and the few dishes he had were dirty in the sink. It would take too much to get a glass of water or any sort of meaningful sustenance.
With a dark chuckle, Leon thought Ashley wouldn't offer him any "overtime" if she saw him now. And it was obvious why Hannigan rejected his light flirting – she knew firsthand how messed up he had to be to get through the horrors of the Plaga. And Cara wouldn't have understood what on earth he could've gone through to turn him into a disgusting mess stuck in his bed. His friends at the agency had read the Kennedy Report and had reached out to him with sympathy that felt somehow nervous. Like none of them really knew how to approach him. The messages had soon died off, and it was clear they were waiting for him to come to them, hopefully in working order once more. Leon couldn't really blame them; he didn't even know what he needed.
With the knowledge that the next time he awoke there would be no choice but to tend to his bodily needs, Leon let himself slip into sleep. He could only hope he woke with enough energy to actually do what had to be done.
Leon had been back at work for a few weeks. In some ways, it was good. He was motivated to get out of bed, shower, shave, and put in his 40 hours a week. But that's really all it was. An easy eight-hour day with routine, boring assignments. Paperwork, research, brief protective details when senators had events. It wasn't nearly as motivating as he needed and he hadn't really gotten back into his routine.
Part of him was sick of his listless evenings dragging way on into the night as he avoided sleep. His mornings staying in bed too long because he was exhausted. The late start to the morning leading to a rush to a boring day at work, then to another listless evening. One friend who noticed he was off suggested increasing his workout routine to really tire himself out. Leon thought there was a lot of merit to this. Especially since his workout routine had fallen to zero since Spain.
Plus, Leon could admit that he really couldn't let his body de-condition if he wanted to get back on better assignments. With that in mind, he rolled out of bed on Sunday morning with the intent to go for a run through the nearby park. It was later than he would typically want to go for a run thanks to his ongoing resistance to being anywhere other than his bed, but he was up and would do it. He dressed quickly in some workout shorts, a plain t-shirt, and some sneakers before tucking his wallet and keys into his pockets. Heading out the door, the blond set off in the direction of the park.
The pleasant morning air felt nice breezing across his face and through his hair. The sun on his skin was comfortably warm and Leon enjoyed the way it tingled on his face. There were children laughing and playing, civilians enjoying a leisurely morning walk, and other joggers making their way through the park as well. It was the closest he'd been to so many other people in well over a month and was a good reminder of the peace he worked to preserve.
He even fought to preserve the peace of the group of protestors up ahead, though Leon decided rather quickly he'd rather avoid them all the same. His eyes scanned the paths coming up, selecting one that would take him away from the group of men with signs espousing their beliefs. He was just about to head down the alternate path when he spotted a familiar head of pretty ginger hair up ahead walking by the protestors. Leon slowed his pace, directing his senses in her direction. He quickly realized that the group of men was shouting rude things at her.
Bryony stopped, whirling to face the group. "You wanna try that again, pal?"
Leon picked up the pace again, brows furrowing with worry at the confrontation quickly unfolding.
"You heard me," one of the protestors shot back. He was much taller than her with short-cropped hair and a rather built upper body. "You and your stupid t-shirt should keep your opinions to yourself."
Another protestor, one with dark hair and a scar along his nose scoffed and mocked, "Women don't owe men shit? Yeah, right. Move your weak-willed female self along and let us men do all the hard work for you and your kind in this country."
"My kind?" Bry repeated, heated astonishment in her voice.
Leon was close now and hurried to Bry's side to try to break things up. "Hey, let's settle down."
The redhead spared him a quick glance, but her eyes were burning with anger and her body was tense as if prepared to fight. She reached into her black t-shirt which indeed read, "Women Don't Owe Men Shit," and to Leon's surprise she pulled out a set of silver dog tags.
"Fuck you and your misogyny," she seethed, waving the tag in front of her. "I served on the same battlefields as all of you, breathed the same fumes, was shot at, lived through some of the most horrible shit imaginable. Shit we see and do so most people don't have to."
Leon scanned the crowd of six protestors, noticing they all sported apparel which identified them as veterans and their signs were arguing for an expanded military budget. Her words also lit something in his own chest. Had he not come think of himself in the same way? Damaged goods that can keep breaking if it means most people are shielded from horrors and dangers and pain?
One of the protestors shot back, "And what, you waited back at camp to tend to the men who were doing the real fighting and still call yourself our equal?"
The redhead drew herself up, face flushed with anger. "No, I dodged bullets while sewing you all back together, shoving your bones back beneath your skins, pulling your sorry asses out of fires. You pigs were all ogling my legs as I approached, so you've at least seen the evidence of that."
Leon eyed the scarring that ran up one of her legs. It was a mixture of white and pink scars that crawled up much of the outside of her right leg. Some of it was flat, smooth, and shiny while other parts were raised keloids. He'd seen it a couple times before, but had never inquired about the origins.
"Shame those pretty legs got ruined," the short haired protestor sneered. "Bet spreading 'em got you plenty before you fucked 'em up."
"Hey," Leon said sharply, eyes narrowing in warning. "Watch it."
"Still need a man to protect you?" another protestor taunted. "Does he remind you of the big, strong soldiers who you traded a warm bed for protection?"
"A trade requires agreement and we all know most of you bastards don't require that."
Leon's heart skipped at the implication. She was referring to a widely known but seldom spoken about problem – the rampant harassment and assault between service members. He hated the idea of the cheery, sassy redhead on a battlefield facing enemies then returning to base camp to face another type of battle against supposed comrades.
The scarred protestor scoffed again and accused, "Always the victim. You're all the same. Talk tough but you haven't seen or done shit."
"And I assume all of you have a Purple Heart for running into an oil fire to pull one of yours out, even though it meant having to be airlifted out to receive serious burn treatment?" Bryony demanded, gesturing to the length of her scarred leg. Leon's gaze fell to it again, the expanse of skin and scars taking on even more meaning. The color and texture of the scars meant she'd had a combination of second and third degree burns across a very large expanse of skin. He couldn't imagine the pain, the risk of infection from sustaining such an enormous wound on the field, the recovery process…
The redhead continued, "And I assume all of you have had strange cock shoved on you when all you wanted to do was sleep for a few hours before heading back out into the field to try to save limbs, stave off infections, pull shrapnel out of torn flesh, or shove their intestines back into bodies? And it's a given that you must have all survived the t-Virus outbreak in Raccoon City after working evacuation before the nuke hit? You know, since men – and especially men like you – have seen and done so much more shit than any woman possibly could have."
Leon felt the blood drain from his face. Bryony was in Raccoon City?!
"Don't even," a protestor in the back argued. "We all know that was all a bullshit cover story to push the liberal agenda."
"Wow, you are even more breathtakingly stupid than I could have imagined," Bry commented with a shake of her head.
Leon's own anger had risen several more notches. Not only were these men speaking incredibly distastefully and expressing some disgusting beliefs about women, but now they were denying the events that tore apart his reality? That ended so many lives?
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open to reveal the Raccoon City Police Department badge he had never been able to part with. Behind the window beneath it was a newer badge which announced his role as a federal agent. He saw the looks of apprehension and surprise on all of the protestors' faces. Leon asserted, "Raccoon City was real. Just because you can't imagine the horrors those of us who were there saw doesn't mean it was faked. I suggest you give the respect you expect to get before you disrespect someone less civil than this decorated military veteran."
He gestured at Bryony who was looking at his RCPD badge with surprise. She looked up to him with his gesticulation and then turned her attention back to the protestors. Coolly, she agreed, "The disrespectful are owed none in return. And women don't owe men shit, especially those who think women are inherently beneath them. Have a lovely day waving around your little signs and advertising your ignorance, boys."
She turned on her heel and strolled away up the sidewalk. Leon shot the group one final glare before moving to fall into step beside the redhead. Once they were out of view and earshot of the group, Leon allowed himself to look the baker up and down. Her hair was loose, falling around her face and down her back in beautiful, flowy waves. She wore the t-shirt which Leon would have said was a perfect representation of her personality even prior to learning more of her backstory. A pair of small denim shorts left most of her legs on display. Now that he was walking on her left side, he noticed several thin white scars peeking out from beneath the denim on the outside of her left thigh. These were different than the burn scars – thin, jagged, and smooth. He wondered what story they told.
"So. Small world, huh, Leon?" Bry broke the silence.
He stopped walking and she followed suit, turning to look at him with curious brown eyes.
"In many ways," the blond agreed. His eyes flicked to the dog tags which she now wore on the outside of her shirt. Impulsively, he found himself asking, "Do you want to grab a coffee with me?"
Slowly, Bryony nodded. "Yeah. I'd like that. I have a question first, though."
"Yeah?" he asked, swallowing down a bundle of nerves rising in his throat.
"I haven't seen you in quite a while. At first, I thought it must be an assignment. But then the weeks kept dragging on and I thought… Leon, were you in Spain?"
He hesitated for only a moment – his obligations of secrecy fighting against the deep human need for connection – before he nodded. Byrony nodded once and then rose on her toes, gently wrapping her arms around him in a hug. Tears pricked the back of his eyes, feeling the warmth of understanding for the first time in so, so long.
For the next several months, Leon saw a lot more of Bryony outside of her little bakery. He still saw her there, of course. Fully back into his very routinized lifestyle, each morning he got to see her cheery face and her assortment of quirky headbands and outfits. She also pumped him full of baked goods, giving him first go at all her new recipes. Raspberry white chocolate chip muffins, lemon glazed blueberry scones, and a banana toffee coffee cake had been amongst his favorites and rarely was there anything not worth a little extra cardio.
Outside of her shop, the pair had grabbed lunch a few times. More often dinners, since neither's job was really flexible enough to make lunches work. They'd also gone on walks through the park and seen several movies together. She'd convinced him to go to a couple of small art museums which had been surprisingly fun. When he'd been gifted baseball tickets from a friend who was put on an assignment that would span across game day, he'd taken an enthusiastic Bryony with him. At first, he had thought of these events as just going out with a friend, but it didn't take long to start thinking of them more as dates. They were never labeled as such – or really labeled at all – but it was undeniable that he'd felt some sort of draw to her from his first visit to her bakery. That had only grown the more he learned about her, the more of her personality he saw.
Plus, their movie night had rather escalated. One moment they were walking side by side down the dark street, him admiring her shapely legs in her denim mini skirt and the cute way she was practically drowning in an oversized canary yellow windbreaker that matched the sunflower pattern on her headband. He didn't know how she could ooze such sweetness and sex at the same time, especially when her mouth was full of sass and an honesty that was sometimes biting. The next moment, he was mentioning they were near his apartment. And now, somehow, she was beneath him on his bed, her jacket gone and their lips locked in a heated kiss.
She tasted of popcorn and the cinnamon gum she had popped into her mouth as the movie had come to an end. Her hair was soft between his fingers and he found himself luxuriating in the long, pretty strands. Bryony was a very participatory partner who appeared to enjoy the exploration of him just as much as he enjoyed learning her. He had soon discovered that her lower body was curvy thanks to both the natural way her body distributed her weight and because she possessed impressive lower body strength. The mystery was cleared up when her scarred leg wrapped around his waist and tugged him down flush against her. Over the course of the night, Leon discovered how very much he enjoyed sex with a woman who was unashamed of what she wanted and the pleasure she got from it and who was just as physically scarred as he was.
The next morning, laying in a tangle of sheets, blue eyes roamed the hills and valleys of the lovely form beside him. Content with the lazy morning, the pair were simply lying in bed and enjoying the other's presence. Leon had been with other confident women before, but Bryony felt different. She was so effortlessly comfortable with herself, both in her body bare and beautiful in the soft morning sunlight and in her personality which she expressed without restraint.
Leon feathered his fingers over the spiderweb of scars that began at the outside of her left thigh, widening and spreading up over her hip. He looked over her serene face, honey brown eyes closed and eyelashes casting light shadows across her cheeks. He murmured, "What happened?"
"Raccoon City happened," she answered simply.
They hadn't spoken about the events of Raccoon City since discovering they had the experience in common. Even that first day getting coffee together after the incident with the protestors they hadn't talked about it. There wasn't really a reason for that; neither had expressed that the topic was off-limits. Bryony seemed to feel now was the time to broach it.
"I'm from Raccoon City originally," she explained. "When I left the Army, I became an EMT. It was an easy transition after being a medic and seeing so much combat, ya know? High stress and gory but with less danger to me personally. At least until the t-Virus. When the feds came in to start evacuating and destroying evidence to cover their asses, my superiors linked me up with one of their teams since I knew the city and had seen literal war zones. Guess they figured I was more prepared for cannibal zombies than the other EMTs."
Leon nodded, his nose nuzzling the smooth column of her neck from where he had tucked his face against her. Bry continued, "It was all so… futile. We lost way more civilians than we saved trying to move them from where we found them to the safe zone outside of city limits. We lost feds, lost other emergency responders. I was almost bitten trying to pull a fed to safety. Had to let her go to pry the bloody, rotting fingers off my arm.
"As we were loading the last of the survivors into the busses they brought in, we heard a child scream. He was surrounded by infected and they were closing in. None of the feds were gonna go in for him, so I did. Army crawled through a hole torn through a chain link fence, snatched him up, and got us out. The metal tore me up pretty good, but it was worth it."
His thumb swept reverently over the network of thin, intersecting lines across the curve of her hip. They were silent for a long moment before the redhead confessed, "I'm glad those scars aren't somewhere visible."
"Why?" Leon questioned gently. His confusion given how often her burn scars were on display was left unsaid but not unheard.
"Did I ever tell you that the soldier I pulled out of the fire died?"
"No," the blond murmured with a frown.
"They gave me a Purple Heart anyway. Oh, what bravery and valor it took for a little Army medic to run into a shed full of burning barrels of oil to see if any of the soldiers who had gone in before an explosive detonated could be saved. But he died before the airlift even arrived for us and then the squadron was down a medic because I had to be evacuated. It was a colossal failure that cost lives. So, I show off my scar because it makes me feel like people can see my failure."
Leon lifted himself up on an elbow, blue eyes peering down at her with confusion. Her honey eyes were open again and on his. Somehow, she seemed more vulnerable now with her words hanging between them than at any other point since knowing her.
"That's… seriously self-punishing, Bry."
"It is, isn't it," she agreed, as if remarking on the weather. "Penance for earning accolades for letting others die."
"The ones you can't save," Leon said slowly, searching for the right words, "can be more haunting than the gore and violence and…"
"Yeah." Several more moments of silence passed through them, eyes locked and with Leon's palm flat on her scarred hip. Finally, she asked, "What haunts you, Leon?"
"The white eyes of the undead Raccoon City civilians and police officers," he answered easily. "The blood dripping from the mouths of the infected as they feasted on living people. The parasites exploding from the bodies of the townspeople in Spain and the feeling of the one that was inside me growing and trying to take over."
Bry lifted a hand to cup his cheek, her fingers gentle and warm against his skin. With a quick, smooth movement of her impressive legs, she turned them around, straddling his hips. She leaned down, peppering kisses up his neck and along the line of his jaw while her hair fell across his chest. The soft ginger tendrils tickled at his skin. He shivered when a wave curled around his nipple. Her lips settled on his in an intimate caress.
Pulling back, Bryony gave him a soft smile. "I do like a damaged man who manages to maintain his values and treats people with kindness."
He smirked up at her, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. "Should I understand that as a confession, Bry?"
"Do you need something so formal as a confession, Leon?" she teased. With an exaggerated sigh, she said, "Well, fine then. I've liked your hot fed ass since we ran into each other at that convenience store. You know, when you got off some assignment or another, dead and starving on your feet?"
"Since way back then?" he asked, brows lifting in surprise.
"Mhmm," she confirmed with a teasing smile. "You're real slow, pretty boy. I had actually decided you had no interest at all until you asked me to coffee that day in the park. And even then…"
"Well, I'd hope we're on the same page now," Leon answered. He gripped behind each of her thighs and flipped them back over. "But I'm happy to clarify if need be."
She lifted her hips toward him and grinned wickedly. "Clarify away. By what title should I refer to you, should I feel compelled to call out your praises?"
Leon gave her a heated look and a lopsided smile. He positioned himself and suggested, "Boyfriend?"
He flexed his hips and pulled the first of many happy hums from the redhead below him. "Think you can manage slow and hard, boyfriend?"
"For you? Absolutely, girlfriend," Leon promised.
"Leon, it isn't that deep," Bryony argued, waving a spatula at him for emphasis.
"Isn't it?"
She gave him a pointed look and went back to the eggs she was scrambling. It was a Saturday morning, but she had recently hired a small staff which left her with more time outside of the bakery to manage the business's finances, do more marketing, experiment with more recipes, and spend time with her boyfriend. Leon was happy for her and quite pleased about how often he found himself at her apartment or she at his.
"It isn't," the redhead argued. "You've been on your super-secret anti-bioweapons team for years, even if you can't confirm that to me out loud. I know, so don't try to deny it. Just 'cause you do protective details and other schmoozing too doesn't throw me off your trail, my dude."
He had to admit she was incredibly intelligent. He really did have boundaries about what he would and would not tell her, but she seemed to see right through his half-truths and silences and had put together a surprisingly accurate timeline of his career post-Raccoon City.
"That's seven years of service to that organization and you just successfully led a team through that airport outbreak. They wouldn't offer you a full promotion to Special Response Team Lead if they didn't think you had proven yourself capable. You earned it."
Leon propped an elbow up atop the island where he was seated in a barstool. He frowned and turned his attention to the vase full of flowers beside him. "Are these the ones I gave you?"
"Yeah," she confirmed. "Surprisingly, I don't accept flowers from other men. Even more surprisingly, I don't seem to be as charming to them as I am to you, so the offers aren't exactly rolling in for me to reject anyway."
"You know you intimidate most men," Leon chuckled fondly.
Bry shrugged. "Not my fault they can't handle someone telling it like it is. Which I am doing when I say that you're a good agent, Leon. If you want the job, you should take it."
"It's just…" The blond heaved a sigh and caught his chin in his palm.
"Just what?" she pressed, turning and beginning to push the perfectly scrambled eggs onto plates already laden with toast and fruit.
"Just… if I fail… people will die and the blood will be on my hands," he admitted in a murmur.
Bryony set a plate in front of him before carrying hers to the barstool beside his. She sat down and reached over, lacing her fingers through his on the countertop. Gently, she asked, "Don't you already feel that way? Like the blood is on your hands?"
Leon nodded and turned to meet her gaze. "It's one thing to feel that way. It's another for that truth to be written in black and white like it would be in mission reports."
"Your secrets mean I don't know for sure, but I have a hard time believing you aren't already sent on a boat load of assignments solo, or where you end up taking lead, or taking on the most tasks. Am I wrong?"
His brows furrowed as he thought over her assessment. Slowly, he nodded his confirmation.
Bry gave him a soft smile. "So if you're doing the harder shit already, let the government pay you for it. Get the better benefits. Take me out to a fancy dinner on that extra fed cash."
A flirty wink and the latter suggestion lightened the mood and Leon breathed a laugh. "You'd like that, huh?"
"Maybe," she shrugged. "I like food and I don't think you've seen me fancy, so that could be fun. But I'm not exactly a high-class girl."
"I'd rather tough as nails yet incredibly sweet," he assured, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her cheek. "You're a lovely dichotomy, Bry."
"Yeah, yeah, such a weirdo. A girly-girl who likes skirts and baking cakes and collecting plants, but a total non-lady with a foul mouth, bad attitude, and an affinity for leg days at the gym."
"Does wonders for your ass," Leon flirted, eyes flicking to the naturally large area kept perky and round by her workout routine.
"Genetics, squats, and sugar," she confirmed with a nod. More serious, she said, "But really. Unless there are parts of the job you wouldn't want to do, like if the hours were trash or something, I'd encourage you to take the title and benefits fitting the work you've already been doing. You're already sacrificing your body and your emotional wellbeing for the work, at least to some degree. You deserve more for that than what they'll ever offer you."
Leon had always appreciated that Bry was a straight-shooter, and an astute one at that. And he had come to appreciate that she saw him as a person of value without trying to dissuade him from the dangers and self-sacrifice inherent to his work and goals. He supposed she understood better than most that he could mean something to people in his life but still take the risks necessary to protect what needed protecting because that's who he was and what he needed to do with his life.
"You know," he mused, "I used to think there was no way I could be in a relationship that worked."
Bry looked at him with an arched ginger brow. She sipped her coffee before asking, "And why is that?"
Leon shrugged. "Too many secrets and wounds for a civilian to ever understand, but need too much stability to date someone else with a high-stress, high-risk job. It never occurred to me to look at women who had served in the military. You're a rather prefect combination of stability and understanding."
The redhead shrugged at him and picked up a slice of buttered toast. "We all have different needs and I'm glad I can fulfill some of yours."
Leon placed a forkful of eggs in his mouth before asking, "What led you to enlist, anyway?"
Honey eyes fell to her plate and a frown turned her lips. She was quiet for a moment before saying, "The answer doesn't make for particularly happy breakfast talk."
He gave her a concerned look and she patted his knee beneath the counter to assure him she was okay with his line of questioning. Still, he assured, "We don't need to shift topics. I appreciate you helping me think about this job stuff."
"It's not that I don't want to tell you or anything," Bryony replied. "It's just stuff I don't like thinking about."
"Family stuff?" Leon guessed. It was the only topic that rarely came up between them, with the clear underlying reason that both were touchy about it.
"Yeah," she nodded, moving her eggs around her plate idly with her fork.
"I became a police officer 'cause of family stuff," he confessed, eyes trained on her face to watch her reaction.
The redhead turned to look at him more fully, eyes searching his face for something. Perhaps she found it, because she suggested, "Shall we finally trade sad backstories then?"
Leon chuckled. "Yeah, sounds like a plan."
He went on to tell her the tale of being born in Italy and immigrating to the US at a young age. He shared vague memories of learning a new language, meeting new kids at school, feeling like the odd one out, trying to assimilate and find his place. Then he explained how he began to notice that his family wasn't like others. There were so many secrets, lots of coming and going in their house or else his father spending long hours away from home. He recalled the day he came home early from school to find his mother bent over the bathtub, scrubbing blood from one of his father's shirts and cursing his carelessness. Leon spoke about the slow realization that his was a mafia family, embroiled in all manner of violence and illegal activities. Until one day tragedy struck and his entire family was killed, save him. He would've been killed too if a single patrolling police officer hadn't seen the flashes of the guns that killed the rest of his family in the darkness of their home. He may have been orphaned and may not have known what it was to be in a normal family, but Leon had a hero and a dream to protect others the way that officer had protected him.
"I actually ended up in Raccoon City because of that, too. I was pretty much fresh out of the academy at the time and requested to go there because of the suddenly escalating crime rates. The day everything went to shit and the city was nuked was actually my first day on the job. I probably would've died with the rest of the force if I hadn't been late to work."
Bry smacked him with the wet dishtowel in her hand. His story was lengthy and they had finished breakfast and nearly finished cleanup by the time he was done. Her tone affronted, she said, "Leon!"
"What?" he asked, taken aback.
"Late on your first day?!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "I mean, don't get me wrong; I'm glad you were if that's what saved you, but that's so irresponsible! How old were you?!"
Heat rose in his cheeks and he couldn't help but pout at her scolding. "I was 21, so still dumb. I broke up with my girlfriend and got hammered the night before. The hangover was insane and it made me late."
Bry caught his face between her hands and titled him to look down into her eyes. She teased, "Well, not a great look, my dude. But I am glad it meant you were alive and single when you met me."
"I could've gotten another girlfriend after Raccoon City," he pointed out.
She winked at him and said, "Nope, you said so yourself you didn't think it was possible. Not 'til me, of course."
He hummed his agreement and leaned down to cover her lips in a warm kiss. "Yeah, not 'til I met you, ya weirdo."
"C'mon, I wanna get comfy for my turn at story time."
Bry gently wrapped her fingers around his wrist and towed him over to the little loveseat in her living room. The space was small but homey. He liked that they always had to be seated close together on her little couch. She sank to one of the cushions and he to the other, allowing her to stretch her legs across his lap without complaint. He rather enjoyed getting to touch all of the skin her pajama shorts revealed, his thumbs massaging the cords of muscle in her calves and thighs and his palms wrapping around the shapely flesh.
"I come from a family with a long military history. All decorated military career guys who married pretty women and had strong sons who became decorated military career guys. You know the type."
Leon nodded, prompting her to continue, "Well, that legacy came to an end with me. My mother almost died during childbirth and because of complications and the lifesaving measures they had to perform for her and for me, she couldn't have any more children. No sons for my dad to raise into strong, macho men.
"Didn't mean he didn't try. I guess all things considered my childhood was fine. It was just always colored by the fact that my father wanted a son and instead had me. He did everything he could to make me into what he wanted and I guess I was desperate for his approval because I catered my hobbies and interests to that pressure. Sports, cars, wrestling, whatever. All shit I still genuinely like, but I only ever got into to try to please him. And anything remotely 'girly,'" she made air quotes around the word and rolled her eyes, "was highly discouraged."
Leon's brows crawled inward, concerned for the kind of pressure the redhead grew up under and wondering how she ended up loving short skirts and flowers on top of the traditionally boy-ish stuff.
"When I was a teenager and was trying to figure out myself and figure out my life, my dad started pushing me toward enlistment. I wanted to go to college for nursing, but that was useless women's work. Any woman could do that, so my father said. My whole life my mother just gave into my father's authority. She was too weak-willed to ever stand up for me. Eventually, I caved to the pressure to continue the Porter family military legacy.
"I graduated high school at 17 and enlisted right away in the Army. I did basic training and then did training to become a combat medic. I was shipped off after I finished and joined the ongoing efforts post-Operation Desert Storm. It was a lot of humanitarian efforts, but there were still rebel insurgents and we saw combat with some regularity. I finished up my contract when I was 22 and moved back to Raccoon City."
Leon trailed his fingers over the soft skin at the back of her knee. Blue eyes wandered her face and asked, "Did you leave because of all the combat? Or because of what happened in the fire?"
"Sort of all of it. And because being a woman in the Army sucked. For me, anyway. We were always the butt of the jokes, the weaklings, not real soldiers. I was sick of the disrespect, sick of the trauma, sick of horny guys rubbing their cocks on me and trying to…"
He reached for her hand, curling his fingers hard around hers. Bryony sighed, squeezing his fingers back. "To say my father was disappointed that I voluntarily ended my military career would be an understatement. I still wanted to go into nursing, but being an EMT was a more natural transition out of the service. And then about a year later the t-Virus happened. My parents died. Either because they turned or because of the nukes – who knows?
"After getting out of there, I had to decide what the hell to do. I came to D.C. because I had hoped to be closer to lots of veterans services. Health care, therapy, social groups, all that stuff. I don't know what I was thinking. My time in the service sucked, my time as a veteran has sucked. I can't even go to the fucking gynecologist at the VA medical center without getting jeered at and questioned as I walk down the halls. I don't want to have to prove myself and fight for my right to go have some over-worked doctor swab my cervix and do a breast exam because all the hazards we were exposed to in the Gulf are apparently a fast track to cancer."
"Did you find other doctors? Are you having those tests done?" Leon asked, heart beating a bit faster with worry. His stomach churned at the thought of her having to struggle to get such important healthcare.
"Yeah, I did. I'm making it all work. I just… I can't even use the payoff for all the fucked up shit I put my mind and body through."
Leon lifted her hand which was entwined with his, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. The redhead wiggled closer, resting her head on his shoulder. "I didn't know what to do without anyone pressuring me one way or another. But then I decided: fuck it. I was going to do all the girly shit I was never allowed to do. I started baking and fell in love with it. I used the life insurance money I inherited from my parents and opened up Briars and Breads. I played around with fashion, grew out my hair, went on some dates with guys who weren't assholes my father would have approved of. And then a really hot fed walked into my bakery one morning and I deciding I had to at least get him in my bed if not totally snag him."
"The really hot fed appreciates your dabbling in fashion. Especially all those skirts and tiny shorts," Leon shared with a smirk. More seriously, he said, "And maybe it doesn't mean much at this point, but I appreciate your service and everything you went through. Welcome home, Bryony."
Her arms rose to wrap around his middle. "Home has felt pretty nice the last few months."
"I may not be a military guy, but would your father have approved of your federal special agent boyfriend?"
Bry laughed and asked, "Would that have been important to you?"
Leon shrugged. "Not more important than what you think. I'm just curious."
She hummed as she thought over the question before deciding, "At first, yeah, probably. But eventually he would've figured out that you're not a gun-loving, God-fearing misogynist and he'd have pushed me to dump you."
Leon didn't much care for the idea of her breaking up with him and tilted his head down to capture her lips. He could still taste the coffee on her tongue. One of his hands soon slipped downward to squeeze her ass, the other burying itself in her hair. She stroked her palms over his chest, teasing his nipples through his t-shirt.
Pulling away, Leon nuzzled the tip of his nose along hers. He felt her warm breath fanning across his face. With a smirk he suggested, "How about I fuck you so slow it hurts and then you put on one of those fluttery plaid skirts I like and we go shopping for a new plant?"
"Counter proposal," Bryony began, pressing a quick peck to his lips. "You fuck me so slow it hurts and then, when neither of us can take it anymore, you pound me into my mattress. Then I wear one of those plaid skirts you like, we go shopping for a new plant, and you help me pick out and build a new shelf for my ever-growing collection?"
"Deal."
And so the rest of the day went. Blood and gore and death may haunt his dreams, bioweapons may be an ever-looming threat, but Leon had to admit that the simple, happy moments spent with Bryony made life good.
A/N: Hello! Just a one-shot that has been floating around in my brain for quite a long time now. I sort of combined Leon lore from multiple sources, so I hope that all blends together and feels in-character for him. This is a totally new fandom for me to write, but it was fun to dive into our poor, traumatized boy's head.
I do want to note that the discourse on the military in this story is very US-centric. Also, the experiences of women in the military described by Bryony are by no means representative of the experiences of all women in the service. It also fails to capture the experiences of gender diverse service members and does not recognize that men also face harassment and violence. It is not my intention to erase those truths. Bryony's experience does, however, echo the accounts I've heard from some veterans and felt important to explore alongside Leon's past and trauma.
All that being said, I hope you enjoyed!