Archive of Our Own

Leon’s footsteps in the snow were staggered and weighted, his usual quiet lost to the load in his arms, the heavy figure slouching into his side and trying to keep moving, one foot in front of the other, louder than Leon and understandably so. The hot blood of the other man’s injury leeched through Leon’s tactical thermal shirt, the bitter cold eating away at Leon’s bare arms and the blood being the only thing to keep himself warm, a stark contrast that made Leon’s shivering worse. Not that he would dare complain. Not when Chris Redfield was staying resolutely silent with bullet wounds in his side. How he was even still breathing, Leon didn’t know. The bitter cold of Finland in mid-January was going to kill Chris if the blood loss didn’t, especially with how the clouds overhead threatened more snow. And the fucking zombies—

Leon wasn’t sure who’d had the bright idea to release a strain of the T-virus into a national park in god damn fucking Finland, but he was starting to believe it had been a genuine accident despite previous theories from other BSAA representatives. The abandoned Neo-Umbrella facility had been found in Kuopio, about one hundred forty kilometers northwest of Joensuu, and Leon would bet his fancy US Government retirement fund that this outbreak had come from one of the many virus-inflicted aviary abominations that had been reportedly found after a deep sweep. Now Leon was trudging through the snow-buried mountains of the Koli National Park of Finland and trying to figure out just how the fuck he’d been roped into this godforsaken assignment when he was supposed to be stateside, overseeing Hannigan’s promotion into DSO Director.

Well, that was a lie. Leon knew exactly how he’d gotten here. One word from Chris fucking Redfield, one look into those pleading, brown eyes, and Leon’s fate was sealed. It was almost pathetic, how easily Leon gave in to the man’s earnest requests. From New York to now, Leon could never say “no” to the man and not once had this inability not nearly gotten him killed.

To Chris’s credit, this entire operation was supposed to have been easy, and the only reason Chris had even asked for Leon was because the BSAA was stretched thin with recent investigations that Blue Umbrella insisted on having BSAA supervision for, meaning just about every single big time operative for the BSAA was somewhere else doing something important that Chris couldn’t pull them away from. And again, to Chris’s credit, Neo-Umbrella wasn’t a one-person thing. Having a partner with the true nitty-gritty experience was vital for the survival of the good guys, and since Valentine and Burton and even Sherry were all doing fuck all somewhere else, Chris had really had no choice but to reach out to Leon. And didn’t that feel great— knowing Leon was the “last resort.”

“I wouldn’t have come to you if I had a choice,” Chris had said, carelessly putting a blade in Leon’s chest, insert knife and twist. “C’mon, man— I need you.”

He’d used the same line on Leon that he’d used in Colorado, like he’d known Leon wouldn’t be able to deny him once hearing those fateful three words. Albeit, Redfield hadn’t been wrong. All hope of turning Chris down and getting back to the mounds of paper work at his desk were abandoned in the face of making sure Chris Redfield didn’t botch a simple in-and-out operation that had only been meant to include the search and recovery of Neo-Umbrella paraphernalia and the destruction of any virus left over from experimentation to create the C-virus.

Everything been fine until that warning, that fucking warning. Breaking into a room that was overlaid with dust, powering up old, cold computers and staring at the blaring red words displayed that read “WARNING: Biohazard Release: Subject Escaped Containment.” The ensuing mad rush of reaching out to countless villages and towns and cities and discovering that the municipalities of Joensuu, Lieksa, and Kontiolahti were in the middle of a self-induced quarantine while frantically reaching out to the larger cities for some kind of aid, but suffering from downed phone lines and equipment freezing over. All signs had pointed to an outbreak in the area of Koli National Park, a wilderness that had two fucking ski resorts to its name and absolutely no contact with the outside world for the past two days. Basically the last place Leon wanted an outbreak to happen, thanks to the isolation, natural elements, and the shitty stockpile of resources due to seasonal activity and expiration dates. Leon wished the rest of the world was as suicidally liberal with preservatives as the States were. Europe was at the bottom of Leon’s list for places that he wanted to be for the end of the world.

Chris had given the order and they’d been flown into the park via Osprey with a five-man team and just enough bullets to scope out the situation and report back to the BSAA for further examination and hopefully a decision on whether or not they’d attempt to salvage the place or if survivors were a lost cause. Leon had planned on opting out of the assignment then, not because he was a coward, but because he hated the cold and Hannigan had been pissed he’d left her to the Congress shit heads all on her own. Making an appeal for the DSO to the fat cats of DC was a hell in its own way and Leon had promised her he’d be there— her appeal date was tomorrow afternoon. The sun had set and they were in the middle of the Polar Night/Midnight Sun cycle, so the setting sun had just meant Leon wouldn’t have been able to take a shower in time for the appeal if he’d gotten on a plane back for the states immediately. And since right now he had his arms full of a wounded Redfield, the possibility of making it back at all seemed damn near abysmal.

All five of the men they’d arrived with were dead.

Leon wanted to know who had thought it would be a good idea to drop them down the ropes near the ski slopes themselves, where he could see the undead milling about without a care in the world until the stimulus of the rotors had drawn deadly attention to them. Some bullshit reason about efficiency, finding survivors ASAP, all absolute garbage. Leon had known this was going to be a shit-storm from the beginning thanks to the BSAA’s down right idiotic practices. Now their men were dead and Chris was bleeding profusely into Leon’s clothes, the larger man shivering despite the second heavy-wear coat that was draped over his shoulders, courtesy of the now-freezing Leon S. Kennedy. And they were lost, so fucking lost, forced to flee the populated area and head into the woods after being overrun.

Their men— Operatives August Mayer, Adelaide Dupont, Abdulah Delemović, Noah Ries, and Edite Coelho of the BSAA European Branch— had kept up well and Leon and Chris had done their best to keep everyone alive and together, but the trees were thick and the world growing dark. Their men had been picked off one by one, and the last, Adelaide, a sweet little thing that had talked about showing Leon her blade collection back at HQ, had been dragged into the darkness by the monsters and her trigger finger had flexed in a death rattle that sent three bullets into Chris’s side. Now Leon was carrying the only man left against his side, wondering how long he’d be able to keep going with the cold pervading every bone in his body and leaving him slow and his senses dulled. He had no idea where he was and no idea where evac would be. Their radios weren’t functioning in the cold and whoever the fuck had thought lithium batteries were acceptable for severe-weather operations was a fuckass. Leon was tired of nearly dying from someone else’s negligence.

“Leon.”

Chris’s voice was— almost unsettling, and not just because Leon hadn’t heard him speak a word in what felt like hours of stumbling through the frigid darkness, but unsettling just because of how weak the man sounded. Leon grunted and hoisted Chris’s arm over his shoulder, getting the man a little higher up and taking more weight. Chris tripped over his own feet and breathed shakily into Leon’s ear, making Leon’s thoughts go haywire. He wondered if the hypothermia was setting in or if Leon was just crazy. It was around ten degrees Fahrenheit last Leon had been able to check. He’d given Chris his coat only a few moments ago and the trees were blocking the worst of the windchill, but Leon knew he wouldn’t last long.

Teeth clattering, he glanced to Chris, saw the vacant, pained glaze to his soulful eyes, wondered what could be so important that the man felt he needed to expend the energy to speak, wondered if it was something important or personal or even life-changing. Maybe Chris would say something like he appreciated Leon or wanted to thank him or even say Leon actually meant more to Chris than just the function of a weapon. Maybe Chris would finally let Leon know Chris gave a shit about him. Leon wet his cracked lips and whispered, “Y-yeah?”

“Leave me.”

Alright.

“Fuck you,” Leon spat. “F-fucking asshole, leaving you behind and sh-shit.” The stuttering was from the cold and yet still humiliating. If Chris dared to ever make fun of him for the stutter if they got out of here alive, Leon wouldn’t hold back on how Chris had been nearly whimpering from the cold before he’d gotten Leon’s jacket. It was a nice jacket, too, a Singi Down in dark olive and it had cost Leon six hundred fucking dollars and Chris had better be fucking grateful and definitely not telling Leon to leave him behind. “Shithead,” Leon cursed, just so fucking angry Chris would even suggest it, even think it. “Fucking sh-shithead.”

“I’m slowing you down,” Chris rasped, his breath ghosting in the air in front of them. “Took your clothes. No coms. No shelter. Night— night is falling.” Chris coughed raggedly and the sound was loud enough for Leon to be terrified the undead would find them, but Chris couldn’t help it. Fuck, the bullet wounds weren’t even that bad, they’d gone in and out, they’d missed organs, Chris would be fine if Leon could just get some first aid and warmth, but the world was against them and Leon didn’t have the heart to tell Chris that Leon was going to freeze to death long before Chris was going to bleed out. “Leon, you need—”

“Shut up,” Leon interrupted urgently, hearing something in the muted quiet of the snowy woods. Moonlight shone through the skeletal treetops as the heavy clouds broke overhead, the world itself deathly silent and somehow terrifying. Chris breathed raggedly and then just held his breath entirely, knowing Leon needed to be able to hear—

The snap of twigs and a low, hollow growl, like air scraping through a ruined throat. A fucking zombie. Probably one of many. Leon didn’t know how their bodies were holding up in the cold, had always thought they’d just fucking freeze over in climates like these, but he was sure the research had been taking place in Finland for a reason. Some sort of endurance testing or whatever the fuck. What was the point of Simmon’s all-powerful virus if the thing couldn’t withstand the cold?

“Keep quiet,” Leon ordered in a low voice as he slowed, even though stopping would be the death of him. The only reason he hadn’t frozen to death yet was the constant movement, friction and muscles working and keeping his blood pumping. But if he stayed too still too long—

A low growl sounded behind him. Leon knew he had three bullets left in his SIG-Sauer P226 E2 and Chris had four in his Beretta 93R. Leon’s Desert Eagle Mark XIX was empty. They were going to die.

“Fuck that,” Leon hissed to himself as the familiar, logical part of his brain tried to make him rationalize. He’d gotten into worse and come up swinging twice as fast. “We’re gonna—”

Leon cut himself off as he looked to Chris and saw the strain in the man’s eyes, the paleness of his skin, the blood that flecked the bottom of his chin, the blood that was dripping into the snow beneath their feet, Chris’s blood staining the purity of the white and staining Leon with it.

Chris wasn’t suicidal. If he thought he needed to be left behind, it meant he was in a really bad way. He couldn’t run. Not like this.

“We need shelter,” Leon said, glancing around feverishly for whatever was encroaching on them. He led Chris on, refusing to let the man fall behind, ignoring the fact that every step sent more blood to their feet, more of Chris’s blood, the stuff meant to be keeping him alive just torrenting down and wasting away and melting the untouched snow beneath them. Leon felt immeasurably frustrated in that moment, but not frustrated enough to lose it.

He turned their direction, heading down the slope, knowing they’d be closer to danger but maybe also closer to shelter. The trees were thick and impossible to see around and the was slowly hidden away, overcome by the clouds again. Chris’s wheezing breath resurfaced and there was a rattle in his chest. The man was losing his balance more. He needed rest from the exertion to his wounded body, a torso wound being a bitch to cope with since the muscles were used for just about every major movement. Leon dug his boots in and pulled Chris along, unable to keep his own thoughts falling away, remembering carrying countless comrades, people he cared about, people he trusted, Buddy the one coming to the forefront, the brave rebel that just wouldn’t quit, asking to be left behind as well and Leon steadfastly refusing. Fuck these soldiers. Why was everyone so eager to die?

As they descended, their path became even less reliable, Leon struggling to find even footing for himself, let alone Chris, trying to keep from stumbling. The sharp drops were disguised by mounds of snow and Leon slipped more than he would like, nearly bringing Chris down with him. The shuffling of steps behind them kept shredding Leon’s concentration, but he couldn’t risk looking back, couldn’t risk wasting time. Chris did look back, though, turned over their shoulder at a slip, Leon barely keeping his footing, Chris’s breath catching on a sharp gasp. “Don’t look,” Leon ordered, fighting to keep from sounding panicked. “D-don’t look.”

“Leon, leave me.”

Chris sounded like he was begging. Leon wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of martyrdom. “D-don’t you know me, Redfield?” Leon asked as his teeth continued to chatter. “I’m only g-g-good at doing the opposite of what you say.” Chris let out this wounded noise in his ear as Leon resolved to make this man hate him by the end of tonight. Leon kept going, one foot in front of the other, positive he could get them out of this, and then— misstepped, his boot falling through the snow and into nothing, Leon plunging down and bringing Chris with him. They dropped deep into the snow drift and rolled, the snow lessening and sending them tumbling down the side of the mountain. Leon lost time and space, his world just turning into a broken spin of chaos and cold until he finally hit the trunk of a tall spruce tree, the air knocked from his lungs.

Immediately, before the world had stilled, Leon was struggling to his knees and searching blindly through the snow for Chris, calling out the man’s name and trying to keep his voice from shaking too loudly. There was a loud groan to Leon’s left and he scrambled for it, crawling through the heavy, frozen white and ignoring how he couldn’t feel his fingertips, only knowing he’d hit Chris once the hand couldn’t move any further.

“Keep going,” Leon said, looping that arm over his shoulder again and trying to keep from stumbling beneath the bulk as he stood again. “Gotta keep going.”

As his vision finally cleared, Leon looked around blearily, shaking from head to toe, covered in snow and knowing it would melt and drench his body and then freeze and realizing things had officially gone from bad to worse when he saw—

A house?

Leon didn’t give a shit what it was, actually, it had four walls and a door and that was all Leon needed. He pushed towards it, feeling his energy lagging severely with Redfield practically lifeless against him, the man not even able to lift his feet, legs dragging through the snow, broken noises of pain escaping those blue lips. Leon heard the echo of more growls and evil things. He wanted to get into the shelter as quickly as possible, but he also saw that the fucking door was unlocked and slightly ajar, and fuck, shit, anything could be inside.

Leon found a birch tree to lean Chris against, taking the Beretta from its holster and shoving it into Chris’s grip. “You keep your eyes up,” he ordered urgently. When Chris’s head lolled uselessly to the side, Leon took the man’s face in his hands and shook him. “Redfield!” he hissed. “Up and at ‘em, I need you to keep yourself standing!” Chris’s dazed eyes could barely focus on him and Leon was about to lose his shit if Redfield couldn’t even defend himself for the few seconds it would take for Leon to sweep the shelter. In a fit of genuine distress, Leon tangled his fingers in the hair at the back of Chris’s head and brought their foreheads together, forcing their eyes to connect.

“Chris,” he whispered, low and serious. “I need you to keep your eyes up, soldier. I need you to watch the area while I check the, the safe house. Can you do that for me? Can you watch my back?” He stared into those brown eyes and could have wept as clarity slowly dawned. Leon wet his lips again and pitched his voice even lower, almost intimate as he asked, “Can I count on you to protect me?”

Chris shuddered a breath and nodded, his grip flexing on the Beretta. “I’ve got you,” Chris said, words uneven but still there. “I’ve got your back. Trust me. You— you can always trust me.” Chris smiled shakily. “You know you can always trust me, Leon.”

Well shit— that hurt in a way Leon hadn’t expected.

“G-good enough for me,” Leon said, unable to unwrap that issue just yet. It didn’t matter, if Leon could just get Chris into this place and get a fire going, they’d be fine. Leon brought up his SIG and left Chris, knowing that these few seconds of separation could be the death of them. He toed open the door of the small hut and crept inside, sights up, seeing very few pieces of furniture and blind spots, but dropping down and checking beneath the bed first, then stepping carefully around it to check the corner behind the fireplace that held a wooden chest, then bringing his sights up to the ceiling just to be safe and—

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Four shots. The only four bullets left to Chris’s name. Despite how Leon was already frozen to the bone, the ice cold fear that laced down his spine was somehow even more frigid than anything he’d experienced tonight. Leon sprinted from the room with terror lacing his chest, imaging all kinds of awful things, of Chris with his throat torn out, Chris with his guts on the ground, the last of Chris’s blood overflowing and painting the world red, Chris—

Shoved the body of the undead he’d killed off of himself and stood on coltish legs, his gun locked in empty, not a scratch on him that hadn’t been there before. Chris ejected the empty clip and let it drop into the snow and then slumped back against the tree, clutching his bloody side but still breathing. Leon had never felt a rush of relief so severe it could send him to his knees, but god damn did he nearly collapse anyways. The relief died when he looked beyond Chris to the very slope they’d fallen down to see at least ten zombies following suit, all of them dropping like flies and then getting back up to follow the sound the gunshots.

Leon forced himself through the snow that was at mid-calf and grabbed Chris by the front of his jacket, yanking the man into the hut behind him and slamming the door shut, grabbing the small, wooden table and stacking it against the door along with the three dining chairs. Chris dropped to the ground and laid there as Leon barricaded them in. They both remained perfectly still, ears trained, listening, wanting to know if this situation was going to stay as dire as it had been all night. Leon counted the seconds, waited for hands and bodies to slump against the door and try to get in, and yet—

Nothing.

“Holy fucking ghost, Batman,” Leon breathed, stunned. “Did our luck actually turn up gold?”

Chris groaned from the floor and Leon suddenly realized they weren’t out of the woods yet. He turned to Chris and saw that there was blessedly little blood pooled beneath the man on the wooden floor, meaning the wounds were no longer bleeding and that he wasn’t going to die of exsanguination. About fucking time. “C’mon, Redfield,” Leon prompted with forced casualness, reaching down and lifting Chris with extreme effort, his cold limbs failing to function at their peak. “Someone needs to be put down for a nap.”

“Someones needs— to shut you up,” Chris labored to say, but there was no bite to his words and Leon almost felt like he could smile if the circumstances were normal. Leon kicked the three quilts atop the bed away with his soaked boots and carefully lowered Chris onto the mattress that squeaked a protest at the weight. Chris went limp, head tilted back, eyes shut, breathing carefully. Leon was just glad he was breathing at all. “Fuck,” Chris panted. “My— everything.”

Leon grinned at that. “You ready, Redfield?” he asked as he got ready to undress the older man, keeping up this banter between them because it was a great denial technique. “It’s about to get hot in here.” He started with the boots, undoing the laces of the tactical wear and pulling them off Chris’s feet, then rolling away the socks that were soaking wet, knowing that getting the feet warm was critical for fighting the cold.

From there, Leon went up, expertly undoing the Chris’s belt and working those tight BDUs Leon had been admiring for the way they hugged Chris’s thighs only a few hours ago down those strong legs, tossing them aside, knowing he’d have to get those dry somehow. He left the tight boxers for decency’s sake— steadfastly ignored the SAXX logo along the waistband— and tugged at the bottom of Chris’s shirt after getting Chris’s arms out from the sleeves of the double jackets that were caked with snow and just as soaked as the rest of Chris’s clothes. Getting the shirt up let Leon finally see the extent of the damage and—

“Sh-shit,” Leon hissed, sympathy making the old gunshot wound in his own shoulder ache. “Your everything, right?” The wound itself was ugly, though definitely not life threatening, especially now that the bleeding had stopped and was mostly a mess of coagulated red around the three, clean holes in Chris’s side, below the lungs, above the kidneys, not even hitting the intestines, all muscle. Leon didn’t believe in god, but he was ready to sacrifice a goat or two in gratitude. He pushed the discarded shirt and the two jackets to the ground, empty weapons and useless radio equipment clunking onto the floor. Leon reached out and carefully traced the GSWs with his fingertips and—

Oh fuck, he still couldn’t feel a damn thing, but he saw the full body shiver shoot through Chris and realized that this hut was still fucking cold. Leon quickly grabbed those quilts and threw them over Chris’s body, tucking them underneath the man and then stumbling back, looking around the hut in a small panic until he realized he hadn’t checked everything, there was still the chest, maybe—

Jesus, thank fuck, the chest was stockpiled. There was a small note atop the contents, something entirely in Finnish with the word “autiotupa” across the top in bold. Leon had no idea how to read Finnish and didn’t feel like insulting anyone with an attempt to pronounce the words. He set the note aside and dug into the contents of the trunk, pulling out the first aid kit and the survival supplies like the lighter and the canned goods and the extra blankets and even the solar powered multi-band Dynamo radio with shaking hands while trying to ignore the lack of firewood and also this weird sound that was in this hut that was supposed to be silent, a clatter like gunfire but far too gentle to be that. It was fine, he needed to handle Chris first.

The kit appeared to be the Scandinavian equivalent for an IFAK, which added another goat to Leon’s necessary sacrifices to the not-real-gods. He grabbed the bottle of antiseptic and the clean cloth from the kit, dousing the fabric and lifting the quilts again to clean the bullet holes, planting his free hand firmly against Chris’s chest and getting his knee to pin the man’s large legs so he wouldn’t jostle with the sting and hurt himself more.

Leon worked quickly, tearing the hemostatic gauze and laying it across the GSWs before taking the Israeli pressure dressing and wrapping it around Chris’s torso five times, securing the gauze and ignoring how he had to wrap his arms around Chris’s torso completely multiple times to slip the bandage beneath the man’s body. As he secured the dressing with the pin, Leon sat back and surveyed his job well done. Chris was breathing, his color was slowly beginning to return, he wasn’t fucking dead, and Leon felt like he could finally take a moment to let his guard down.

The second Leon did, he realized how dangerously cold he was. Leon looked down at his nearly blue fingertips, touched his face and felt no sensation, tried to rub his arms for feeling and got nothing. Then he slowly became aware of that distant sound actually being his teeth hammering together in his skull, his body desperately forcing the movement to fight the hypothermia. Even Leon’s knees were quaking.

“F-f-fuck,” he barely got out as he started to fumble out of his own soaked clothes, tripping over himself and falling hard on his ass as he struggled out of the denim jeans that were clinging to his skin after kicking off his boots. His hands were useless, numb to the bone, he kept twisting his fingers wrong and he was scared he’d break one without even noticing in his mad rush to strip and save himself. A whimper tore itself from his throat and Leon realized he was scared. because he couldn’t undo his belt, his fingers weren’t obeying him, and suddenly every limb in his body was palpitating and his joints were too stiff for him to—

A hand on his shoulder dragged Leon back until he was laid across the wooden floor, able to look up from below at Chris who was leaning over the bed with a pained expression and reaching for Leon’s belt, undoing the buckle one handed and tugging it out from the straps. “Strip,” Chris ordered, using his gruff Captain voice that Leon usually never let Chris use on him. “Get up here— you’re about to go into hypothermic shock.”

Leon didn’t even have it in him to come up with a snarky response, pushing down his jeans with a noise of pathetic desperation, his bare legs not even registering the change in the sensation. Leon used the sharp bottom of his palms to push his shirt up and over his head, the tight thermal nearly smothering him as Chris fumbled around above, crawling atop the mattress to reach over and grab the extra blankets Leon had found, dragging them onto the bed. Leon finally managed to wrestle the shirt away and found he couldn’t move from the spot where he was sitting on the floor, curling his naked knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around himself, shaking like a leaf, shaking so badly he felt like he was having a seizure.

“I said get up here.” Chris’s hand hooking beneath Leon’s armpit was a welcome snap back to reality, the stronger man aggravating his injury in return for pulling Leon into the bed beside him, shoving Leon down onto his left side and spooning Leon from behind, pulling the blankets— three quilts, another one wool, another fur, and two fleece— over their heads like a tent, cocooning them in the warmth. Strong arms wrapped around Leon in place of his own and Chris was like a furnace against Leon’s back and legs and neck, his body forced to accept the warmth and doing so gladly as little puffs of breath ghosted Leon’s neck and the cold finally— finally— began to ebb.

The need to survive and fight back the hypothermia overtook Leon for a long while, countless minutes or hours spent cradled in Chris’s arms, the tremor of Leon’s limbs slowly dying and his teeth falling still. And after that, there was an even longer age of sinking into the touch of Chris, Leon selfishly cataloguing every sensation of the man pressed against him: the firm muscles of Chris’s chest along his spine, the sharp dig of those hips into Leon’s lower body, the soft yet big cock through the fabric of their boxer briefs, those strong thighs lined up with Leon’s and their calves tangled together so their feet could touch and leech off the body heat. And after Leon had committed every single minute detail into his brain, exhaustion swept over Leon. He started to drift off when Chris abruptly shook him.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep on me, Kennedy,” Chris bit out, his words sharp and cold like ice. “Don’t cop out on me yet.”

Leon shuddered a breath out of his frozen lungs and asked numbly, “Why do you hate me?”

There was a quiet more invasive than the deadly silence of the world beyond the walls protecting them and Leon hated himself for being so stupid— stupid fucking Kennedy saying shit he wasn’t supposed to say— fumbling for a way to cover up his fuck up, when Chris’s low voice broke the silence, saying, “I don’t hate you, Leon. I never have.”

Leon—

That—

“Liar,” Leon accused softly into the darkness of their warm refuge. “You’re a f-fucking liar.”

Chris heaved a sigh and the arm’s around Leon’s chest clutched tighter, drawing Leon even further into the warmth, one of Chris’s huge hands splayed across the expanse of Leon’s chest and moving up further, ghosting the edge of the scar of the bullet wound that had ached for the holes in Chris’s side.

“I’m not gonna lie,” Chris said, which— good, that was exactly what Leon wanted. “You’re difficult, Leon. Difficult in a way that no one else I’ve ever worked with has been able to achieve. Maybe that’s my fault, considering I’m a Captain and just about everyone has to do as I say when I say it with little backlash, but even then, the people I’ve worked with who are on my level of the food chain are nothing like you. They’re professionals and somber and serious and they know how to handle any bad situation with their mouths shut. They never back down in the face of fear and they never crumble beneath the weight of a bad situation getting worse. They never lose sight of their goal and what they believe in and they never, ever leave a man behind.”

Leon’s eyes were stinging and he hated it, clenching his jaw to keep it from shaking again as the weight of Chris’s words sunk into his chest like acid rain. He started to move, trying to pull away from Chris, get out of the grip of the man he admired and desired so badly, because those words had hurt more than any blatant betrayal he’d faced and he was seriously considering just throwing himself back into the cold and letting the zombies get him. But the hands around his chest held fast. “Let me go,” he choked out, hating the way his voice cracked.

“Let me finish,” Chris’s voice rumbled in the darkness. “Let me finish, Leon.”

“Why would I do that?” Leon demanded. “It’s f-fucking suicide.”

Chris didn’t respond to that. Instead, he moved that large hand up and curled his fingertips atop Leon’s heart that was beating as fast as a rabbit’s. “Let me finish.”

Leon didn’t have a choice. He shut his eyes. It didn’t change the oppressive darkness, but he felt somehow safer from Chris’s deadly words.

“The people I work with,” Chris continued smoothy. “Are brave and powerful and skilled and good and everyone single one of them is my family. You do all of the same stuff— you never give up, never fall short, and never abandon anyone. But you’re not like them, Leon. You’re not like them because even when all of my men can stand so tall and all of my partners can meet my abilities and return and stay strong at my side, they’re not like you. They just see Captain Chris Redfield of the BSAA SOU, a leader and a weapon and someone to look to for guidance and strength. And… they’re right. When I’m with my men, that’s what I am.”

There was a pause, Chris taking in a wavering breath before continuing, almost whispering, “But when I’m with you, I’m none of that.”

The hand atop Leon’s heart smooth out and the thumb grazed Leon’s collarbone, a gentle brush of his nail across Leon’s still-cold skin sending Leon shuddering. “When I’m with you, I’m just Chris,” Chris murmured into Leon’s ear, the ghost of lips tracing the cartilage, Leon suddenly realizing just how close they are and how Chris wouldn’t let him escape. “When I’m with you, I’m not a weapon. I’m not a leader. Barely even a soldier. I’m just Chris Redfield, a man who fights at your side and isn’t expected to meet any expectations. I don’t have to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders because you’re just as strong and you don’t look to me to lift the burden. I don’t have to be a leader or a hero or anything like that. You make me feel like a person— a human. And that…” Leon felt Chris curl around him, the arm around Leon’s waist like a vice.

“That means so much to me, Leon,” Chris whispered into Leon’s neck. “To be able to be a human rather than a weapon with you. Only you. That’s why I— I don’t treat you like everyone else. Because you don’t treat me like I’m anyone important or more than any other person. And I-I don’t have the words to describe how much that means to me. How that makes me feel.”

Chris paused and Leon held his breath. “Well,” Chris murmured after those few seconds passed. “I actually do have some words to describe how it makes me feel. But I’m not sure they’d be very welcome now that I know you think I genuinely hate you.” The hand on his hip dug blunt nails into the skin and Leon shivered but this time, it wasn’t for the cold. “But then again— you look at me a lot, Leon. You look at me in a way that makes my skin feel like it’s too tight. You look at me in a way that makes me feel like maybe this whole endeavor of convincing you I don’t hate you isn’t going to be nearly as difficult as I think.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leon denied uselessly even as his breath hitched with that hand on his hip widening, fingers stretching and grabbing at the sharp hipbone, pulling Leon’s hips back into Chris’s own. “You hate me,” Leon whispered, trying to save face. “Why would I want a man that hates me?”

“Because I don’t hate you,” Chris replied simply. “And I think that even being hated never made you shy away from something you want. Never made you back down from a challenge.” The lips against his neck suddenly parted and Leon squeezed his eyes shut even tighter to control himself as Chris’s hot breath raised gooseflesh along his skin. “I don’t hate you, Leon. I never hated you. I just let you see a side of me not a lot of other people see and I think it made you believe I disrespected you. It’s the opposite, really.” There was an audible smile in Chris’s voice. “People don’t realize that me being a bit of a jackass is a default setting among my friends because no one is really my friend anymore, not in the way that I trust them to truly be myself. And I never acted like I needed to look out for your wellbeing because I know you don’t need anyone to look out for you at all. I never gave you orders unless I thought you were going to do your solo schtick and get yourself killed. And I never checked on you because I trusted you to not take on anything you couldn’t handle.”

There was something somber in Chris’s tone, something almost like regret. “I realize now how wrong I was to do that,” Chris confessed. “Because that’s exactly how everyone else treats you. Everyone knows you can handle yourself so they never ask if you’re okay when that’s all you really want. You wanted someone to ask if you were okay even if you didn’t need it. You’re a solo act. You never get anyone watching your back and never have anyone acting like they care. And since you never had that but always saw it in others— in me— it was something you wanted. And yet I so selfishly kept it from you because I let myself be myself around you and let myself believe you’d be insulted if I tried to coddle you.”

There was more quiet. Then a gentle, open-mouth kiss placed to the tendon of Leon’s neck, to the pulse thrumming in his vein. “I’m sorry, Leon,” Chris said, his voice so achingly gentle that Leon felt like he could cry all over again. “I may be an idiot, but I don’t make the same mistake twice. I’ll fix this. I’ll fix the damage I’ve done.” Another kiss, another brush of the lips. The hand on Leon’s waist moved down, following the line of Leon’s hip, dipping below with fingertips skating along the edge of the waistband of his boxers. “Will you let me, Leon? Will you let me make this right?”

Consent. Chris was asking for consent. And if Leon said no, then it would be all over. Chris would pull away and they’d go back to surviving the freezing cold of Finland in February and they’d radio for a way out once they weren’t at death’s door and the sun could charge the radio and that would be all she wrote. Leon would file this night away as a nightmare he’d drink to forget and he’d go back to swallowing down the treacherous hope that Chris could ever want someone like him.

But— how could he shove it down now that he knew Chris did want him? And how could Leon be stupid enough to deny himself something good, one of the few good things he’d ever have? God, did he believe Chris when he said he didn’t hate Leon? Chris had been manipulating Leon left and right, but— did Chris even mean to do it? Did Chris understand the weight of his pleas on Leon’s psyche? Did Chris even know that Leon would follow him into hell, chanting beneath his breath how it was a bad idea and yet going anyways?

Did Chris know Leon would die for him?

Leon swallowed hard and steadied himself to make the most terrifying decision of life. He was so used to being alone, so accustomed to it that he wasn’t sure he’d know how to function with someone else at his side at a constant, steady rate. He didn’t know if he would know how to not be alone. But—

Leon took the hand that was just skimming the waistband of his boxers and laid his palm across it, coaxing Chris’s fingers to dip beneath the fabric and skate across the hidden, sensitive skin.

Leon was so tired of being alone that he was willing to be afraid.

Chris let out a soft sigh against Leon as he took control back and slid his hand down further, the large fingertips pressing into the base of Leon’s soft cock, a deep pressure that had Leon’s sluggish body responding faster than Leon thought it could, blood rushing south. He kept his eyes shut, focusing on the sensation of the touch and psyching himself up, telling himself it was okay, he could have this, he was allowed to feel good and allowed to let Chris touch him, he was allowed to finally have this one thing amidst all the bad, however temporary it would be. And once he had this good thing, he’d—

He’d stop thinking, because suddenly Chris’s hand was wrapped around his cock and Leon couldn’t think at all with that happening. The pleasure curled low in his gut as that huge hand wrapped around the shaft, stroking almost lazily, a tentative friction like Chris had never done this before, had never touched another man and was trying to figure out what was good and what wasn’t. It felt almost shy but Leon’s heart was racing too fast for him to say anything reassuring, and the shyness didn’t last long. As Leon’s hips began to unconsciously roll forward, Chris gained confidence, reading every cue from Leon’s body as the success that it was and tightening his grip, quickening his strokes, pumping Leon’s cock in earnest and Leon unable to do anything but lay uselessly on his side, immobilized by the position they were in and his fear of the cold, Chris’s other hand still pinning Leon to his chest.

Weak little noises slipped past Leon’s lips, desperate gasps as the pleasure became less of a glow and more of a fire, his muscles clenching and relaxing to cope with the waves of sensation that washed over him from Chris’s ministrations. A particularly rough drag of Chris’s palm had Leon arching back and his ass pressed against the line of Chris’s now rock hard cock and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. As Chris’s hand worked on him, the strokes fumbled by the confines of Leon’s boxers, Leon began to thrust back, grinding on Chris’s cock, wanting that inside of him more than anything. Chris grunted into his ear and the hand on his chest went down to his hips, holding him still, Chris whispering, “Don’t have what we need.”

“I can take it,” Leon replied, the words dying into a long, loud moan as Chris’s hand swiped over the tip of Leon’s leaking cock and spread the precum down, slicking the way. He almost wanted to suggest using that as lube when Chris’s hand clamped over Leon’s mouth, the fingertips indenting his cheeks as Chris shut him up. Leon whimpered uselessly into Chris’s palm, hot pants of breath escaping him as his hips moved freely again, rubbing up and down on Chris’s cock, the sensation of the size of it alone between his cheeks sending more of a thrill through him than the hand on his cock.

Chris groaned softly again into Leon’s neck, that hand clamping tighter. “Stop,” he gasped, losing rhythm as Leon worked against him. “Y-You fucking— gotta be quiet.”

Leon knew Chris was right, which was why he wasn’t fighting the hand around his mouth. There could be anything outside and Leon couldn’t keep himself quiet. He mewled into Chris’s hand as the grip tightened on his face and cock, a tremor running through his chest as he got close enough to cum for a split second before the sensation died away as Chris slowed his pace and—

Chris was edging him. “Oh fuck,” Leon choked out, the words muffled by Chris’s fingers. He was shaking now, anticipation and knowing Chris was winding him up like a toy making the euphoria even more intense, thighs clenched tight around Chris’s hands down his boxers. He rutted against Chris’s cock. The noises Chris was letting out behind him were electrifying and Leon suddenly realized both his hands were free in the same moment that he nearly came again, only for Chris to stop his hand entirely. Leon let out a frustrated cry before reaching back, blindly fumbling between their bodies. Chris made a noise of confusion that sharpened into a moan as Leon pushed down the hem of Chris’s boxers and realized that—

Jesus, it was huge, bigger than any man Leon had ever been with and probably bigger than most realistic toys. He allowed himself a second of just exploring, running his fingers that were still somewhat numb up and down the shaft, testing the girth and length and barely able to keep from just wailing when Chris gave a firm tug on Leon’s cock and he almost— almost— came again, if only Chris would continue. “You fucker,” Leon whimpered, desperate enough to be almost upset. “F-fucking fucker! Let me cum, fuck, let me cum.”

Chris groaned softly and then whispered, “Safe word’s magma,” before his hand was moving again and Leon—

“Fuck you,” Leon said, grinning despite the pleasure that was making his vision foggy, reaching down with his other free hand to shove down the waistband of his own boxers, the fabric caught on the swell of his ass. Leon arched back and slipped Chris’s cock between the cheeks, then grabbed Chris’s waist, forcing the man to grind into him. Chris choked on a noise that was downright sinful as Leon worked his body, sliding the huge cock up and down the crevice, the way becoming slick with Chris’s arousal in seconds. The sound of the wetness and Chris’s cock sliding between his flesh, Leon’s strangled moans as Chris retaliated with a violent pace, the sensation of the man’s cockhead catching on Leon’s aching, desperate hole but never sliding inside with every thrust—

“Cumming,” Leon babbled suddenly, trembling from head to toe, rutting into Chris’s hand and trying to keep breathing. “Cumming, I-I’m cumming, let me—”

Chris’s hand stopped. Leon wanted to scream. Instead, he grit his teeth and moved his hand down Chris’s waist to his ass, grabbing a handful of that gorgeously sculpted muscle and digging in his nails, pulling Chris into him and making the man grind into him at a bruising pace. Chris’s focus and control fell away as Leon clenched around the line of Chris’s cock and rolled his hips sharply, giving Chris no time to take stock and breathe as Leon took him apart expertly with something as simply as friction. Chris’s hand spasmed on Leon’s cock and the man bent forward, curling around Leon, moaning raggedly into Leon’s shoulder as he started to move with Leon’s hips, thrusting his cock up into the tightness of Leon’s cheeks, the slick precum smearing across Leon’s skin. Chris held on tight as his hand fell away from Leon’s mouth and his moans pitched higher in fervor.

He was close, Leon could feel it in the way Chris’s thrusts stuttered, the way he began to shiver. Leon turned his head over his shoulder, letting go of Chris’s ass to tangle his fingers in the short, choppy hair, pulling Chris closer and grinning almost savagely despite his own desperation. “You feel so fucking good,” he told Chris, relishing the broken noise that left the man at Leon’s words. “You feel like fucking heaven,” and it wasn’t a lie, the way his cheeks were spread wide from just something as simple as this was electrifying. Leon prayed he’d get to know what it felt like to be split open by this cock one day. “You’re so good for me, baby, wanna feel you cum,” Leon begged. “Wanna feel you, wanna be wet with you, please.” Chris shuddered and there was a frantic gasp of Leon’s name, Chris begging for something. Leon knew what he could do, knew he could pull away and give Chris the same treatment that had Leon’s own cock throbbing painfully between his legs, but—

“It’s okay,” he murmured, running his fingers through Chris’s hair. He clenched his cheeks and moaned as the head of Chris’s cock nearly pushed inside at an angled thrust, the teasing stretch sending Leon’s eyes into the back of his head. He reached down between their bodies and wrapped his hand around the head of Chris’s cock. “Oh fuck, baby,” he gasped. “It’s okay, cum for me, wanna feel it, wanna feel you, wanna—”

Chris’s cry cut Leon off before Chris was sinking his teeth into Leon’s shoulder, muffling the shattered sound. Chris came into Leon’s fist, the mess splattering into Leon’s hand, the only way Leon had been able to think of to keep things at least halfway sanitary. Chris’s hips jumped into Leon’s body as he came in droves, his uncontrolled thrusts fraying Leon’s thoughts. And when it finally ended, Chris slumped forward into Leon, the man worn down by the power of his orgasm and Leon feeling like he was on cloud nine.

“Gorgeous,” Leon murmured as he brought the hand that was filthy with Chris’s cum around and running his tongue along his palm, tasting the release and moaning. “Fuck, Chris, I—”

Leon’s words were cut off by Chris’s hand going back to Leon’s cock and pumping him hard, the sudden onslaught of pleasure nearly making Leon squeal as all coherent thought was robbed from his body and he was sent back into ecstasy with no warning, no chance to catch his breath and cope. Chris grabbed Leon by the wrist and shoved Leon’s cum-drenched fingers into Leon’s mouth. Leon choked out the digits and nearly came from that alone, the taste of Chris exploding on his tongue, driving him insane. Fucked out little noises left him as he was brought higher and higher, babbling uselessly around his own fingers Chris growled in his ear, and then there was another sink of teeth into Leon’s flesh, harsher than before, deeper and nearly breaking the skin, Chris marking him, and Leon was suddenly cumming so hard he saw white, going rigid as his body jerked and twitched and shook with the orgasm, his moans muffled by the fingers and Chris still pumping his cock furiously as Leon spilled into Chris’s hand.

He slammed back into reality with pleasure singing in his veins, lungs heaving as he swallowed down huge gulps of air. Chris’s hand released his spent cock and wrapped delicately around Leon’s wrist, pulling the fingers from Leon’s mouth carefully, a trail of spit and cum clinging to his fingertips. Leon was a dazed mess as Chris grabbed Leon by the jaw and turned Leon’s head back, Chris bending over him to seal their lips together in their first kiss, an open-mouthed, sloppy thing that had Leon’s toes curling as Chris’s tongue delved into his mouth and pressed deep, Leon barely able to meet him and reciprocate. Then Chris pulled away and put his arm back around Leon’s waist, his dirty hand slipping out from beneath their blankets of protection to wipe on the side of the mattress.

“Fuck, it’s freezing out there,” Chris hissed as he brought his arm back into their safe little cocoon. Despite himself, Leon laughed breathlessly as he slipped Chris’s cock from between his cheeks and pulled the man’s boxers back up his hips and then doing the same with his own.

“You think you know cold,” he griped. “I gave you my fucking jacket.”

Chris hummed. “You did. It was a nice jacket.”

“Cost a lot of money,” Leon grumbled.

“You looked really good in it.”

Leon almost laughed again. “Don’t tell me you’ve been checking me out for years like I’ve been checking out you and we’ve both just missed it.”

The arm curled even tighter around Leon. “Get some rest, Kennedy,” Chris ordered gently. “Pretty sure you’re not gonna die of hypothermia now. We need to figure out where to go from here tomorrow morning.” Lips grazed Leon’s neck, the spot that had been bitten and ached pleasantly. “I’ve dreamed of you falling asleep in my arms. Wanna make my wish come true?”
Even though part of him wanted to be spiteful because that was Leon’s default when he was embarrassed, Leon couldn’t deny that hearing Chris say that made his chest flutter. And god, he really was exhausted. Orgasms took a lot out of him, especially mind-blowing ones like that had been. His face pink, Leon nestled back into Chris and shut his eyes again, trying to keep from sounding pathetic as he confessed, “I always, uh— wanted to fall asleep in your arms. Seemed like the safest place on earth.”

Those warm lips kissed Leon’s flesh again and he shuddered. “I’ve got your back, Leon,” Chris promised. “Get some rest. I’ve got you.”

As darkness encroached from more than just his eyelids, Leon focused on the steady rise and fall of Chris’s lungs and let the rhythm lull him into a dreamless sleep, hope burgeoning in his chest like bubbling water even in the midst of a mini apocalypse. And just as Leon was about to slip away completely, he felt Chris breathe a sigh of gentle contentment and knew Chris felt the same as him.

Leon just prayed that this wasn’t it— that it wasn’t a one time thing.

. . .

Leon woke up the next morning to the gentle sound of static and Chris’s voice an even quieter murmur. He was alone in the swathe of blankets and even though he wanted to see Chris in the flesh and make sure the man wasn’t dying, Leon was loath to leave the warmth. Then there was a clatter, a scrape of nails on wood, a growl—

Leon threw back the blankets, scrambling for his gun on the floor— his gun with three bullets left— and aimed it at the door being pushed inwards by what was likely countless undead that were held back only by the haphazard mess of furniture. On the floor by the fireplace, Chris was on the radio, speaking softly to someone with a focused expression. Leon wondered how the zombies had figured out they were in here when he noticed the natural light spilling in from—

“You put a hole in the ceiling?!” Leon demanded in a sharp hiss, knowing Chris couldn’t have been quiet doing that. “Fucking christ, Chris, couldn’t you have thought of a better way?”

“Solar power needs the sun,” Chris reminded him grimly. “Unless you forgot how to read?”

Leon scowled at the words, sights still up and trained on the door. “Please tell me you got someone.”

“Silver Dagger are gonna be at the top of the mountain,” Chris told him. “There’s a large clearing at the top of the Ukko-Koli mountain that’s looking like the most decent spot for them to pick us up without getting swarmed by this. It sounds like the surrounding municipalities are still avoiding infection, and an official quarantine led by the UN and BSAA has been set up around the entire park with CDC lending a hand since this seems to be a new strain. Power is still maintained in all of the major facilities, including the ski-lift. I think that’s our best bet for getting to evac.”

Leon gave the man an incredulous look. “Our best bet is climbing a mountain?”

Chris smirked back, though the smirk itself was drawn. Leon knew Chris was just as floored by the situation as he was. Three bullets and at least a foot of snow, going to the overrun resort and praying the lift moved fast enough to keep them from becoming a demented rotisserie. “What’s wrong, Kennedy?” he asked. “Finally found your mission impossible?”

“Fuck off, I’m way hotter than Tom Cruise.”

Chris gave a shrug of his mouth. “Well, you’re right about that.”

Leon stared at the man for a long moment, his face going slowly red. So they weren’t going to ignore the previous night. Leon wasn’t sure if he was relieved or terrified. “Sh-shut up.”

“God, I love when you get flustered.”

“Don’t make me waste a bullet on you, Redfield.”

Chris flicked a dial on the radio to turn it off and looked back up at him. “D.C. is gonna get there ASAP, so we should get moving. He said he’s gonna try to drop a cache for us at the resort at the bottom of the lift if he thinks it’s a good idea. Apparently we’re one klick lost in the woods from the Ukko-Koli resort. We need to take the C lift. That’s where they’ll try to give us ammo.”

“We’re walking into a blood bath,” Leon told him. “You know that, right?”

Chris went silent for a moment. The rattle of the door nearly being broken in echoed between them. “I know,” he finally admitted. “But I’ve gone through worse and survived with less. Having you with me is better than any monster-slaying weapon I could be given. We’re the best, right? We can handle this.”

Leon heaved a sigh, unable to deny that he was touched by Chris’s faith in him, even as he hedged, “I hope you’re right.”

Chris grinned softly. “Didn’t know you knew how to hope.”

Leon scowled. “Shut up. I can’t help that you’re starting to rub off on me.”“Starting? Didn’t I rub off on you just last night?”

Leon sputtered. “F-fuck you.”

Chris smirked. “Later.”

Leon stared at him. “There are fucking zombies outside, Redfield.”

The smirk died and Chris’s expression became one of solemn resignation. It occurred to Leon that Chris had been trying to waylay his own anxieties with friendly banter. Leon bet Chris did that with his men all the time. Leon was a fucking obtuse asshole even on his best days. “You realize you’re still in your boxers, right?” Chris asked, bringing Leon from his self deprecating thoughts.

Leon looked down at his bare body and finally noticed. He wondered why he wasn’t cold until he saw the crackling fire in the fireplace and— “Where did you get the wood?” Chris nodded to the door that was moments for giving in. Leon saw one of the table chairs was missing. “Why didn’t I think of that?” Leon wondered aloud.

“You were dealing with a lot,” Chris said as he stood and brushed off his hands, picking up the radio. “Your clothes are dry,” He told Leon, gesturing to where Leon’s gear and garments were hanging in front of the fireplace by a makeshift clothes line that was strung from the broken city to the furniture blocking the door. Chris’s ingenuity, however basic, made Leon feel like an absolute fucking failure. He should have thought of their clothes, he should have thought to burn the furniture, he should have thought to prep the radio for the sun, he should be the one up and working to get them out of here because Chris was injured and Leon was just fucking useless, a fucking failure, why couldn’t he just—

“Hey.”

Leon looked to Chris at the sharp call, his bangs hiding his face. Chris was frowning. “I know that look,” Chris huffed. “You had that expression with Patricio. Blaming yourself for something you can’t control. Stop it, alright? You had a horde coming in on you, a wounded soldier that’s at least fifty pounds heavier than you, no jacket for the cold, and you had to find a safe house and secure it all by yourself after getting dropped into a war zone and losing your unit. You did your best, Leon. You did better than most anyone else could have in your situation.”

Leon looked away. “… Should have thought of the fire.”

Chris let out a frustrated noise. “When will you realize you’re more than good enough, Leon?” Then he cut his head to the clothes. “Get dressed. We’re heading out.”

Leon did as told despite getting that Captain voice again, pulling on his stiff, yet dry clothing, ignoring Chris’s blood that’s staining the entire right side of everything, even the six hundred dollar jacket. It seems a lot more priceless to Leon now that he knew it had saved Chris’s life. He slid his arms into the sleeves and shuddered despite the fact that he was no longer freezing and the cabin itself was warm. The knowledge that he was still covered in Chris’s blood—

“Before we go,” Leon said. “Status report.”

Chris hesitated.

God fucking dammit.

“The truth, Redfield.”

Chris winced. “I— I feel weak. And I know the cold will be brutal. Don’t got a lot of blood left in me to lose. But I can keep going because that’s the only choice I have.” Chris stood and stretched himself out, barely flinching at the strain it had to put on the wound. “Don’t act like I can’t bring myself past the finish line. You saved me last night, Leon, you saved my life. It’s about time I saved my own.”

“You have nothing to prove to me.”

“But I have everything to prove to myself.”

Leon hated that Chris’s argument made sense. Neither of them were ever happy feeling like a burden. Then the door rattled loudly and Leon got dressed faster, zipping up the jacket and checking the last of his ammo in his SIG, feeling naked with only three bullets left. Chris watched him, looking a little pale. Leon met his eyes with a grimace, knowing exactly what he was thinking. Yeah, they’d faced down worse odds and come up swinging, but they’d never had another person to worry about. They’d never been so intimately invested in their partner. They’d never— they’d never fought alongside a potential lover, possibly even more than potential. It was a lot of risk with only three bullets to stand between them and the worse kind of loss they’d ever have to survive.

“I’m ready,” Leon said, not sure if he meant it. Chris nodded and stood, pulling on his bloodstained jacket as well. They faced each other for a long moment as the howling behind the door reach feverish pitches. Chris swallowed visibly and then strode forward, taking Leon’s face in his hands and kissing him passionately. Leon went up on his toes to meet the kiss and shuddered.

“It’ll be okay,” Leon promised the other man, their eyes shut as they breathed together. “It’ll be okay,”

“Yeah,” Chris rasped in agreement. “Let’s go.”

They broke away and Chris went up on the mattress to smash his fist into the ceiling, tearing down the weak foundation of the roof to make a bigger hole for them to escape through, up and out being their only viable option. Leon kept his sights on the door, warily watching the hands and jaws that snapped in the sizable opening the zombies had made. Rubble and snow dropped onto the bed as the natural light flooded the room. Leon grabbed the radio, figuring the added weight would be worth the communication as Chris grunted and moved away from the hole, holding a hand out to Leon.

“Hell no,” Leon denied. “You first— pull me up after.”

Chris scowled. But then he grabbed both sides of the roof and lifted himself with purely the strength of his arms despite his injury, Leon’s mouth going dry at the display of power. Chris pulled himself out onto the roof, the entire ceiling shuddering dust at the weight. Chris’s hand then reached down for Leon. Leon put his gun in the holster at his thigh and was about to take the hand when the door finally gave way and the undead spilled into the tiny room, yowling and reaching for Leon with hunger. “Kennedy, now!” Chris shouted. Leon jumped up from the mattress and grabbed Chris by the bicep, the man getting his other hand in the back of Leon’s jacket and yanking him up. Decayed hands brushed at Leon’s legs, yet none of the monsters got a good grip and Leon joined Chris atop the roof, panting with adrenaline. Below, the tiny room that had been a space of reprieve and rest between them, the place where Chris had first kissed him, became a madhouse.

Leon peered into the room and saw the chaos of the undead scrambling and falling over everything, tearing the sheets from the bed, blood and decay smearing the walls and floor. Leon scowled as one zombie that was suddenly licked with flames after falling into the fireplace tumbled around, the blankets catching on fire.

“This place is gonna be a pile of ash,” Chris said, expression grim but determined. “Let’s go, Leon.” He fell away and dropped from the roof, opposite of where the small horde was piling into the house, like clowns trying to fit in a gimmick car. Leon cursed them all under his breath for soiling something that held such an important moment and memory in his life. Leon hit the snow-covered ground beside Chris, the crunch barely audible over the growls inside the hut. The mountain towered behind them and Chris wordlessly pointed in the direction they had come last night, stumbling through the drift on their last leg.

Leon and Chris crept through the woods, deadly silent, both of them more terrified than anything of being caught. The quiet of the woods last night pervaded into the morning, all sensible creatures having abandoned this part of the Koli forest for safer ground. If this was just the section that held the ski resorts, Leon couldn’t imagine how bad it had to be beyond. He knew that the lake had frozen over. He almost wished they could go by it and watch some zombies fall on their butts. Leon’s gaze strayed ahead. He was a few feet behind Chris, jogging to keep up with the man’s pace, the cold not so bad now that Leon actually had his jacket. Up front, Chris was bent low, his stance tense and defensive, eyes alert, his movements quick and measured, his body tight, perfect, just so fucking nice to look at in those BDUs, the curve more than pleasing to the eyes, something Leon could stare at for days.

“Up ahead,” Chris suddenly hissed, forcing Leon’s attention away from—

Holy shit, he’d been staring at Redfield’s ass.

Leon’s cheeks flushed and he pulled out his SIG as the lone zombie shuffled through the snow, its head tilted back, wailing mournfully to the sky. Chris put his arm back as the thing went past them, barely even noticing even though they were only a few yards away. Leon frowned. The thing seemed blind, blinder than normal, even though these zombies were withstanding extreme temperatures that would have defeated them before. Obviously the T-virus had been worked on to allow them to survive these extremes, but…

“His eyes are frozen,” Leon whispered, suddenly getting it. The virus tweaks weren’t perfect. This thing had its head to the sky and its eyes didn’t twitch like the rest of its body did. The poor bastard couldn’t see a damn thing. “They’re sound alone now.”

“If we can be quiet—“

“Yeah, we’re doomed with you here.”

Chris tugged his head to the side, something he often did when Leon spoke and got snarky, but Leon only just now realized that this gesture wasn’t Chris swallowing anger, but Chris trying not to laugh. Leon grinned and moved up front, jerking his head for Chris to follow him. “Stay in my steps,” he ordered, voice hushes as the zombie went out of earshot despite being only a few feet away and well within the average line-of-sight for most of the infected, proving the frozen-eyeball theory. “Don’t you dare make a sound.”

Chris gave a sharp nod and followed Leon dutifully, the only sound that echoed in the trees being the falling snow that was melted by the sun rising overhead. The woods were devoid of any more zombies, probably gathering around the lights of the resorts or lost in the trees, hopelessly wandering like Leon and Chris had been last night. They gained ground much faster than last night, but the closer they got to the Ukko-Koli resort, the worse things got.

There was a glow ahead, a glow that wasn’t like artificial light and shouldn’t even be this visible in the burgeoning daylight if the light itself was manmade. And even so close to the resort now, there were still so few wanderers, almost no infected surrounding the area. Leon swallowed down the anxiety of his possible theories. They broke through the trees, looking to the resort, and one of Leon’s theories was realized.

“Jesus,” Chris whispered beside him. “No one’s surviving that.”

The resort was on fire same as their small hut likely now was, though the flames came from within as the entire structure appeared to be metal and concrete on the exterior, so definitely not a natural fire. Leon grimaced, but—

“Hell of a distraction,” he pointed out, and he was right. The undead were clinging to the building, literally moths to the flame now. “Where’s the cache they were gonna drop?”

Chris winced. “Should’ve been dropped by now.”

Leon looked forward, eyes searching for that red smoke that would come from the drop so they’d know where to go, his heart sinking when he saw nothing. “Do we know if they made it to the top?”

“They said they were on their way.”

So evac wasn’t even set in stone. They could very well climb a mountain and find nothing and no one atop it, worsening their plight. Leon cursed low to himself and ran through their options, thought of their physical states, of their resources, of what little they had left in their capabilities, those few hours of rest meaning next to nothing without sustenance to back it up. Leon realized they should have eaten something, those cans of food back in the cabin now more than likely nothing more than ash at this point. And Chris still had holes in his fucking body—

“Here,” Leon said, holding out his gun to Chris. When Chris looked ready to protest, Leon shut him up with a glare. “You can’t run as fast as I can, not when you’re the latest batch of Swiss ready for the American Cheese Society to judge. Having the gun could be your last line of defense while I can still dodge a few hands.” Chris didn’t argue because he didn’t have an argument. Leon pushed the gun into his chest. “I mean it,” he insisted, lowering his voice. “I need you out of here with me, Redfield.”

Chris glared at the gun, but took it, the SIG looking undeniably small in Chris’s grip. Leon chose his weapons with speed and accuracy in mind, making each shot count and making sure it happened fast. Chris preferred squeezing a trigger and betting something would land. “You’ve got the last three bullets to our name,” Leon told him. “Don’t waste a single shot.”

“Should be you making them.” Chris took the gun anyway and checked it over, grimacing at the weapon but nodding his satisfaction. “Alright,” he said, looking out at the burning building and then to the ski lift far beyond— the ski lift that wasn’t moving. “I’m ready. You lead.”

Leon nodded, darting out from the shelter of the trees and keeping low, doing his best to keep his feet as close to the true ground so he could clear a good chunk of the snow Chris would have to plow through. The zombies were preoccupied, but there was still a danger. The snow itself was covered with snow and corpses, Leon not letting himself look too long at the people who had been lucky enough to not be turned. He could hear Chris’s breath behind him, sharp pants giving away the pain the man was still suffering. Ahead, the ski lift was surrounded by a tall wire fence, the lift itself lifeless and had a small blanket of snow, about an inch or so thick atop all the benches. The controls were in the room at the center of the bend of the lift and the lights were on, but—

“Oh fuck.”

Chris’s words weren’t right and were too loud, which was why Leon whipped around sharply, just in time to see Chris pitch forward, clutching his side that was bleeding a fresh red again through the clothes and bandages. Leon cursed and stumbled back, catching Chris before he could hit the ground, taking the bulk of the man’s weight again. Chris was limp for a few long seconds that Leon counted like they were the final inches between them and death. It felt like ages before Chris was bringing himself back to his feet, unsteady but standing. “Dizzy,” he said, growing pale. “Think they— think I did something wrong.”

“Okay,” Leon said, still not letting Chris go completely. “That’s okay, we can—”

Chris’s eyes snapped wide at something over Leon’s shoulder before he shoved Leon hard and Leon dropped into the snow, sputtering from the suddenness and looking up to see Chris ramming his fist into the skull of one of the undead, the bone and flesh cracking beneath the impact of Chris’s fist. Chris swayed with the fist, stumbling badly, still experiencing that dizziness, almost falling over as the zombie crumbled to the ground. Leon scrambled forward to catch Chris again, the man’s pants now becoming ragged breaths of pain. A roar sounded behind them, and being quiet wasn’t any option any longer.

“We’re running,” Leon said as he brought Chris’s arm over his shoulder again. “We’re running, we’re running, can you run?”

“Gonna be sick,” Chris said instead, his eyes rolling into the back of his head for a second even as footsteps sounded behind them, countless uneven gaits that outnumbered their three bullets exponentially. Leon pulled Chris along, praying that gate was unlocked, praying the outbreak had happened midday so no one had been able to close up, praying—

Leon reached the gate, dragging Chris behind him, and saw the chain and lock laying in the snow beside the gate itself. He was never going to get as lucky as he was this op ever again in his life. Leon shoved Chris through the gate after tearing it open and gathered up the chain and lock, whirling around to slam the gate shut and loop the chain through, sealing them both in. As he snapped the lock shut, the fence was slammed with bodies, decayed and broken fingers grabbing for him through the holes in the wire. Leon looked up and—

Oh god, the fence wasn’t going to last long. He stared into the glassy eyes of countless corpses, more than he had expected, all of them with teeth intact and snarling, blood raining from their lips and bodies covered in snow and frost and rot. Leon took a step back, watched the fence shudder, and then heard Chris wheeze and gag. He turned and looked to the man, gathering him up in his arms again, ignoring the pool of bloody acid burning through the snow, focusing instead on how Chris’s knees kept buckling.

“You gotta lose some of that muscle mass, Redfield,” Leon grunted, trying to joke as he got Chris onto one of the lift benches, knowing that once he got this thing moving, he wanted Chris to be the first bench to reach the top. The rest of the benches were locked away behind some restraint, too, this bench was the only one that would be reaching the top from down here, Chris needed to be on that and so did Leon or they wouldn’t be surviving this together. Chris garbled out some senseless protest, but Leon ignored him. “Stay put!” He ordered before running into the controls room.

The lift itself wasn’t any different from anything Leon had seen in the movies. The whole place was on a raised, concrete platform, the end of it pitching down a good ten yards below. The interior was well kept despite being so cold and Leon easily powered up the automated system screen that was in front of a huge set of cranks and gears for the lift, staring at the words that read in Finnish and wishing he at least spoke a sister language. He fumbled through the console commands, seeing line after line and few diagrams. Outside, the fence shook and the zombies grew louder. Leon could see the fence tipping inwards, only seconds away from giving. He could also see Chris turning in the bench, bringing the sights of the SIG up, ready to fight to the end.

For a split second, Leon’s heart clenched with fear and love he couldn’t tell apart, unable to swallow down his admiration for Chris’s stubborn bravery.

Then he looked to the controls again, saw something that looked like an arrow pointing up, and hit the button before he could think twice. Beside him, the machine powered to life, roaring with physical energy, and the benches surrounding Leon started to move just as the fence toppled inwards with the undead falling atop each other.

“Leon— move it!” Chris screamed from outside even as Leon nearly tripped over himself in running out of the control room. The lift benches were already rounding away, Chris being brought up the beginning of the slope. Leon’s feet had little traction in the snow and a zombie met him at the door, Leon ducking beneath the arm and spinning— almost slipping— for the left, running for Chris. There was a hot breath of decay at the back of his neck and—

A shot rang out, Chris firing over Leon’s shoulder with expert accuracy that made Leon’s heart race. The bench was already at the end of the ledge, Chris heading up. Leon dug in his boots, reached the edge of the platform, and leaped across the gap, grabbing the bottom of the bench and holding on for dear life as Chris shouted his name and fisted the back of Leon’s jacket, pulling him up. The bench swung wildly in the air and Leon refused to look down as the lift brought them higher.

A horrible possibility ran through his head, of falling to the ground and snapping his legs, laying there helplessly as the dead crawled atop him and ate him alive. He could hear the screams of the devoured so vividly in his memories. Leon brought a leg up and hooked it over the back of the bench, helping Chris pull him up, praying they wouldn’t send this whole thing plummeting to the ground with their wild movement. Then Chris gave one last forceful pull and Leon was suddenly dropping over onto the seat, laid out on his back with his head in Chris’s lap, staring up at the man and the high sun beyond.

“Holy shit,” Leon gasped, his entire body heaving with his labored breath. “That— sucked.”

Chris laughed, the sound strained with blood bubbling at his lips. Leon brought his hand up to cup Chris’s cheek, brow furrowed with concern. “Are you—”

“Bit my lip,” Chris told him, taking Leon’s hand in his own and cupping his palm. “It’s fine, GSW’s fine— ruined the scabbing, but it’s not any worse.” Chris then turned his head and kissed the inside of Leon’s palm, the blood smearing red across Leon’s gloves, warm and alive. “We made it.”

“Nice shot,” Leon said. “And I thought I had the best aim.”

“You do,” Chris said. “You make good shots every time. I can only make a good shot when it really counts.”

That same, treacherous twist came back to Leon’s chest. He wet his lips and tried to think straight. “It could be bad up there.”

Chris’s gaze went forward and up, to the top of the mountain that Leon hadn’t looked at yet. “It could be,” he said. “It could.”

That was it. “What?” Leon pressed. “No final words of wisdom from the incredible Captain Redfield?”

“Would you listen if I had them?” Chris asked, a tired grin tugging at his lips. With the sun behind him acting as a halo, Leon thought he was beautiful and was too stunned to respond. He knew he wouldn’t have listened anyways. Chris’s speeches were good, but they always felt like they were meant for someone that wasn’t him. Leon didn’t need a pep talk to get him running. He just needed an end in sight and a goal to achieve. It seemed that Chris understood that about Leon. It seemed that Leon really hadn’t ever given the man enough credit for how well he knew the way Leon worked.

“I like your speeches,” he said instead of letting himself think about how wrong they’d both been all of these years. “I know you said you don’t like being held to the impossible standards of a perfect captain, but I think those speeches prove just how good of a leader you naturally are. And I think you deserve a lot more credit for the things you do. The people you lead. The responsibilities you shoulder.” Leon ran his thumb across Chris’s cheek, felt the bench sway beneath them and knew they probably didn’t have a lot of time, so he wanted to make these few spare moments feel like forever. “I think it shows you’re a lot smarter than people think. And I think it proves how good of a captain you really are— even if you don’t believe me when I say it.”

Chris went very quiet. Then he shut his eyes and tilted his head back. The sun broke down over Chris’s face and body like a silk, putting Leon under some sort of spell. He could feel Chris breathe, a steady rhythm against his head, and wondered if he’d said something that Chris would remember like the way Chris’s soldiers remembered Chris’s speeches. Leon wondered if Chris looked up to Leon like Leon would look up to him. If Chris could keep going in this fight, then so could he.

“We’re almost there,” Chris finally said. “We have two bullets left.”

Leon swallowed hard and nodded. “You see anyone friendly up there?”

“You lost your sight, Kennedy?”

“You’re like the sun itself,” Leon replied stupidly. When Chris’s eyes snapped down to Leon, wide and shocked, Leon visibly fumbled for a way to recover. “I-I don’t wanna tip us over. Don’t rock the boat, right? I’ve seen Frozen.”

Chris seemed to take Leon’s change of topic to help him avoid embarrassment. “The one about the sisters?”

“No, the one about the three friends that get stuck in a lift like this and eaten by wolves.”

Chris looked horrified. “They— yeah, okay, don’t move.” Chris looked ahead again. “And I— I don’t see anyone. Don’t hear anything either. I’d suggest taking out the radio, but we don’t know what it’s like up there.” He smiled and the expression seemed to hurt him. “For all we know, this is just gonna feed us right into the mouths of more undead at the top. Like a sushi belt.”

Leon shut his eyes and forced himself to think this through. “If that’s what it looks like, then we drop,” he said. “The lift will get us closer to the top and the ground, we might have a better chance at surviving that. I’ll go first, make sure the ground isn’t that bad once we scope out our options and—”

Leon was cut off by a sudden burst of sound, the whir of an engine and rotors as the Osprey flew overhead and reached the peak of the mountain long before them. Leon sagged into Chris’s lap in relief. “Okay,” he said. “Or we get our boots down and book it for them.”

“Leon.”

Leon looked to Chris and saw Chris was still looking ahead, somehow paler than before. Leon swallowed hard. “Don’t tell me.”

“It looks like the fence up here is still standing.”

“But?”

Chris visibly swallowed. Then he bent over, surging downwards to kiss Leon with aching chasteness, the touch of their lips made wet by Chris’s blood. Leon pressed up into him, knowing exactly what the kiss meant. Their luck had finally run out, right at the last moment. Leon honestly wasn’t even surprised. “They’ll cover us,” he told Chris, his words swallowed by Chris’s mouth. “And you?” You run.”

“What about you?”

“I’m faster,” Leon said again. “I can dodge them. I’ll distract them.”

Chris grimaced. “There are snowmobiles up here.”

Oh fuck yes. “I’ll break away from them in an opening made by Silver Dagger and you get to the Osprey,” Leon ordered. “It’ll be easier for me to double back and reach you guys on that thing than going on foot and worrying about you.” He stared up into those gorgeous brown eyes and pleaded for Chris to have faith in him. “You trust me, right?”

Chris looked torn. “Trust doesn’t cover all these variables.”

“But it does make me feel better.”

Chris grit his teeth, then nodded. He sat up and tugged at the front of Leon’s jacket, expression solemn. “We’re almost there,” he said. “You should be sitting up.”

Leon nodded and did as instructed, finally looking away from Chris’s face and the endless blue sky beyond to see the mountain beneath them. Tree coverage still reached up here, meaning Leon would have some good ways to hide, but also obstacles to avoid in the snowmobile. He knew most of these places had the keys in the lift operating room. He could see the lift drop off and the fence surrounding, the undead not pressed to the wire but still thick around it. Leon was actually surprised by the amount of undead at the peak. It almost seemed like this was where the outbreak had first occurred, the other infections spawning from the people fleeing down the mountain. Beyond the undead, up a slope, the Osprey hovered in the air. A lot of the zombies seemed drawn to the sound. Chris pulled the slide of the SIG, checked down the sights like something could have changed, nervous ticks that Leon would do himself if he had a gun. The end of the lift was coming closer and Leon could see the snowmobiles. His hands were shaking with anticipation.

He glanced behind and—

This place was gorgeous. The frozen lake spanned out into more wilderness buried beneath the blanket of the heavy snow, trees laden with the weight and the world still. The sun glinted and reflected off the white, blinding Leon with its purity. He thought of how much tragedy had overcome this place in the course of a few days and found himself hating the world of BOWs for how recklessly and unforgiving it ruined the most beautiful things. He wished he could have seen this place, this Koli, before it had been ravaged by the calamity.

“After this?”

Leon turned to Chris, surprised to hear his voice again but welcoming it regardless. “After this,” Chris repeated. “I better not hear you ever say I hate you again.”

Despite everything, Leon grinned. “I’ve got your back, Redfield,” he promised. “Get your wounded ass to your men and leave the rest to me.”

Chris nodded. Their bench swung up and their feet were above the platform. Chris and Leon dropped into the snow and Chris cried out raggedly at the sudden stress on his wound. Even over the sound of the osprey beyond, the fucking zombies heard that. “Just keep going,” Leon told Chris, reaching out to squeeze the back of Chris’s neck to swallow down the shock of worry at the sound Chris had made. Leon then letting his hand fall away as he darted into the lift control room and grabbed the keys to one of the snowmobiles and the keys for the gate fence. “Fast as you can, Redfield— don’t look back!” Leon threw the lock keys at Chris, then climbed onto the snowmobile that chirped for his key, starting up the engine and feeling the machine vibrate to life beneath him. Leon looked to Chris one last time and—

“Don’t you dare die out there, Leon,” Chris ordered in his captain voice despite the pain that accompanied it. “Don’t you dare give me this chance and then yank it away with your martyrdom.”

Leon was astonished. “You really do know me.”

Chris waved his hand in the air as he limped to the fence gate and pulled the chain around so it faced inward, letting Chris undo the lock, before giving the only command Leon would listen to for the rest of the day. “Go.”

Chris yanked open the gate and Leon shot through, the snowmobile slicing through the snow and shooting between the zombies, Leon expertly weaving around the shambling corpses and hollering random jeers into the air, trying to draw as much attention as he could to himself. Behind him, he heard a single gunshot, and his heart leaped into his throat. He pulled back the handles and revved the engine harder, heading for the flat area that signaled the first set of slopes, moving too quickly to be snatched up but knowing any slip up would be his last. His hair whipped about and into his face, blocking his vision momentarily as he passed through a large group of zombies, all of them reaching for him, the masses growing observant of Leon’s shit and reaching for him long before he can even think of where to evade. It occurred to Leon he was making too much noise, relying on their ability to only register sound too heavily. Now they were all coming straight for him and he had no weapon and no exit strategy and no protection.

That— was fine. He’d survived worse. A single shot rang out behind him again, the last shot, though much further way, signaling the end of the line for Chris one way or another. Leon made a loop with the snowmobile, sending a spray of powder into the air that slapped into the faces of the undead that weren’t phased. Sound, they were stimulated by only sound, being blinded wouldn’t do shit.

A hand got itself in the hood of his jacket and Leon choked, a strangled noise leaving him as he held fast to the handles and sped forward, throwing his body up and trying to dislodge the hold. A second hand went into his hair and Leon was tugged down, his grip on the controls slipping. He was graced with another glimpse of the sky that was overtaken by shadowed blurs of the countless infected all collecting around him, his speed waning at his loss of control. He fell back down the seat, laying horizontal, and acted in pure panic, whipping a hand out to shoved at the face of the thing with its hands on him and knock it down. The grip was dislodged and Leon snapped back up, grabbing the handles and twisting them as far as he could, shooting forward with less control than before. The machine trembled beneath him as something got caught in the treads and the steering suddenly thrashed out of his grip, sending him careening helplessly past hungry hands.

The snowmobile launched itself over the drop of a slope and Leon with it, both of them arching through the air, the craft hitting the snow on its nose and Leon toppling over it. He reacted quickly to keep from being crushed, shoving his boots into the snow and catching himself on the ground beneath, ending his tumble abruptly while the snowmobile continued to pinwheel down the mountainside. Leon came up out of the snow with a gasp, vision spotty from the adrenaline. He slid a few inches down the slope, looking up the steep decline and know he couldn’t climb back up, not when the undead were approaching the edge and dropping down in their own disorganized mess.

Leon rolled quickly to the side, one of the stupid zombies falling gracelessly past him with a snarl. He had limited options, having to choose between the impossible of climbing back up and facing the masses above or sliding down to the end of this slope below, passing the different ski jumps and rails and hoping nothing pursued him with speed enhanced from reckless abandon. He stared down the slope, seeing some of the dropping undead already collecting at different inclines, trying to think of how he could—

A body slammed into him and Leon was dragged down the snow with it, rolling and losing time and space, lost in the endless whirl of white and blue. The air was shoved from his body by a knee in his stomach and a swipe of claws across his exposed throat, a hand tearing at his jacket and breaking the zipper. The thing trying to kill him held fast to the jacket and Leon was thrown out of it entirely, cold pervading him like poison, twisting his shoulder badly, still not completely recovered after fucking Arias. Leon cried out in pain and then moaned raggedly in relief as the spinning stopped, his roll broken by a manmade jump, Leon come to rest in the beginning of the leap. His head and stomach swam in opposite directions and he felt like he was going to throw up. Then a growl scraped his thoughts with a clammy, cold hand pressing at the exposed skin of his stomach, his shirt pushed up his chest by the fall.

Leon kicked out sharply on instinct, boot colliding with something solid. The growl became a cut off grunt, the zombie forced back as Leon lifted his head with effort and begged the world to stop. Then the hands were on him again and Leon whimpered, lashing out stupidly, getting his fingers in a mess of rotted flesh and slamming the monster back, Leon using the momentum to fling himself up and straddle the zombie. He looked down at the creature, saw it had been a woman with bleached blond hair and perfect teeth, and grabbed his empty Desert Eagle from his thigh holster, holding the barrel and slamming the butt into the zombie’s skull again and again, gritting his teeth against the spray of blood and brains. The reaching hands of the zombie flailed and stopped and the thing died for good, limbs dropping lifeless. Leon sagged in relief and stood on wobbly legs, looked back up the slope—

Leon couldn’t even count how many were tumbling down now, all of them heading for him. Hopelessness washed over him, a tired feeling that made him stumble. The Deagle in his hand felt heavy. He was shivering from the cold again, his jacket in tattered ruins on the ground, his body exposed to the frigid elements again, violent sun beating down on his skin, freezing snow seeping through his clothes. The dark blots of zombies became larger and larger, ten or twenty or thirty all fumbling down and somehow learning, catching themselves before they could fall, heading for the jump Leon was on. Their awful noises grew louder and Leon had a choice. Flee down the slope, further and further until he got himself corralled by the undead already at the bottom, or stand and face his death with confidence that Chris was alive.

Leon steadied his stance in the snow, shrugged off the cold, and waited for the first one to reach him. A horde approached, shuffling up the level spot of land from the ski jump, screaming for Leon’s flesh. He brought the Deagle up like it was a genuine weapon and grinned, pale face flecked with blood, hair a mess, blue eyes fatal. “Come and get it.”

There was a sudden burst of air and noise behind him, and he heard Chris’s voice like it was a command from the angels on high, shouting: ”Get down!”

Leon dropped to the snow just before an onslaught of bullets sprayed into the horde encroaching on Leon, the zombies shoved back by the flurry of high caliber bullets peppering and tearing into them, breaking limbs away from bodies and popping craniums. On the ground, Leon turned back and saw the Osprey hovering at the end of the jump, Nadia standing tall with her hands on the controls of a portable gatling, Chris on his knees and holding the leather of the straps to steady the gun while Nadia took out every in sight without prejudice. The fire of death machine was a genuine relief, but the cool down—

“Shit!” Nadia cursed loudly enough for Leon to hear as the gun ran too hot and the bullets ceased. “Kennedy, move it!”

Leon looked back to the horde to see the few who had survived lurch forward. The rotting hand of an overweight man was on Leon before he could think fast enough to avoid it, and he was pinned beneath the bulk. Snapping jaws and slobber and blood covered his face. Leon squirmed uselessly, trying to get the thing off of him, slamming his elbow across the jaw and hearing the neck snap satisfyingly. He scrambled to his feet, but another hand got in the back of his shirt, ragged fingernails dragging through the now-exposed flesh of his spine, breaking the skin. He made an awful noise as he was choked on the collar of his shirt, flailed to get free, and—

A single shot rang out, the zombie that was holding Leon decimated by a single slug between the eyes. Leon shoved in and sprinted for the end of the jump, throwing himself into the air, careening into the back of the Osprey and rolling with his landing as the sensation of safety slammed into him like a tsunami. “D.C, go!” Chris ordered into the comms as he pulled the slide to eject the cartridge of the bullet that had saved Leon’s life, the rifle held tight in Chris’s hands, knuckles white. Leon slumped back onto the floor of the cargo hold and gasped, breathless laughter escaping him as fight or flight crashed away. His back stung and he was freezing again. The spray of the gatling picked up again as the Osprey swayed with its retreat and Leon shut his eyes, dazed.

Warm fabric was suddenly dropped over his torso. Leon’s eyes snapped open in nearly the same second they’d closed, looking up at Chris as the man laid his jacket over Leon’s form. Leon realized he was trembling. “Remind me to never call you the Ice Queen again,” Chris said, as he tucked the edges of the jacket over Leon’s shoulders. “You can’t stand the cold.”

Leon laughed again, the noise shoved out of him as he shook. “Ice Queen? Really?”

Chris grinned a little. “You’re not really the easiest guy out there, Kennedy.”

“You— you owe me a new jacket, Redfield. And not this bloodstained shit.” God, Chris’s jacket was still warm with the man’s body heat, though, and Leon selfishly soaked it up.

Chris’s voice seemed to soften when he said, “Consider it done.”

Leon dropped his head back, only able to nod. His back stung. “Wake me up when we get back,” he panted. “Just— wake me up.”

“Get some rest,” Chris told him. “You’ve earned it.”

Leon nodded again and let himself fall into a dreamless, exhausted sleep, knowing Chris and his men were capable enough to allow Leon these few moments of vulnerability. He made a mental note for himself to never go skiing ever again.

. . .

The European Branch of the BSAA was a flurry of noise and stimulation that Leon could do without, so he didn’t even bother with a true debrief, opting to escape the noise of the men and women clambering to get close to the infamous Chris Redfield by heading to the showers, thinking of no better way to get warm now that Chris wasn’t an option.

It was cute, really, if Leon let himself think about it. Chris really was a legend within his own right. That plus side to being a public operative rather than a ghost like Leon was getting the recognition Chris deserved. Even though Chris said having the weight of responsibility on his shoulders ran him ragged, Leon knew the man cherished his status and enjoyed how his presence could make his fellow soldiers feel safe. Chris hated the authority, but he loved being a safe haven to the men and women of the BSAA and he loved being someone that could be looked to for courage, not from an ego trip, but from knowing that his men and women could find a way to be brave despite all odds.

Leon was the same way. It was a lot easier to charge into a worst case scenario at Chris Redfield’s side.

One thing he wouldn’t do for Chris, though, was put up with cheap soap. It was like the BSAA though he could just use shampoo for his body. Leon wasn’t very particular about his hair, contrary to popular belief, but he preferred some grade-A bleach cleanser after an op to get the blood and sweat and guts off his skin, not the same shitty, watered down suds that every grimy BSAA operative used for their unoriginal buzz cuts and lame-ass ponytails. He’d already emptied the last bottle into his hand and wondered if this was the grass-fed shit he saw advertised in health stores. Leon was all about fair treatment of his beef, but jesus fuck, his job was too fucking difficult for him to have to come home and have someone pass off their vegan spit as decent body wash.

Leon huffed and scrubbed at his scalp, trying to ignore the subtle aches in his body. He wasn’t that bad off, especially compared to Chris. Leon had expected to come off this op half dead and begging for at least a weekend off. Instead, Leon only had a couple bad bruises to his name, a sore shoulder, and the niggling idea that he deserved to be much worse off. Chris— Chris had been relying on him to keep him safe while wounded and Leon hadn’t even thought of how to get a fucking fire going. Yeah, he’d be going into “hypothermic shock” as Chris had called it, but Leon felt like he’d been exaggerating. Leon had been functioning perfectly; it was just his limbs that had fucked him over.

He wrapped his arms around himself, testing the stretch and strain of the contusions, and tried to convince himself that he wasn’t feeling a little bit lonely. Leon wasn’t BSAA. He wasn’t a team member. He wasn’t even a team player. Chris had said a lot of shit during this op, but one of the first things he’d said to Leon was that Leon S. Kennedy was Chris’s last choice to come to in a time of need. Yeah, maybe Chris wanted to fuck him and maybe they had some sort of newfound, shared respect, but that didn’t mean—

He threw the empty container of useless “soap”, not feeling any better for the fit of violence, but at least he wasn’t thinking about Chris’s flippancy towards Leon anymore The plastic clattered across the tile, the large, communal shower echoing the sound and jarring Leon’s senses. Fifty men could easily fit in this room, and yet Leon was alone, with only one nozzle going and the blood and dirt dripping from his body and swelling down the drain. Chris was off with his buddies and Leon was going to finish cleaning off, give some sort of stilted debrief, and then fuck off back to the states and return to being a last resort to the man Leon—

“What did that bottle ever do to you?”

Chris’s voice startled Leon out of his self-deprecation. He whirled around on instinct, and then froze like a deer in the headlights when he saw Chris standing by the lockers beyond the communal showers, stepping out of his boxers, completely nude, cock swinging, perfect body on display like being naked in front of another person was—

Oh, right, Chris had his team members. They probably didn’t give a shit about nudity while Leon was a lone wolf and a fucking prude. Leon cleared his throat and tore his eyes away, facing the wall and praying his cheeks weren’t bright red, even though he knew better and that they absolutely were. Even with Chris’s entire side taped up with plastic to protect the gauze treated his wounds, he was still as breathtaking as renaissance art. “Sorry,” he said, realizing belatedly that Chris had asked him a question. “Just, uh— your soap here is shit.”

Leon winced at his own words the second they were out of his mouth. Insulting Redfield and his “home”? What the fuck, Kennedy? But Chris’s warm chuckle behind him had Leon relaxing despite his blunder. “It is pretty bad,” Chris agreed. “I always argue that some part of our budget should go to nicer amenities considering the shit my men go through, but O’Brian always seems to find some outstanding expense that needs the money more than a shopping spree at Bed, Bath, and Beyond.” Leon heard the sputter of another shower being turned on, directly beside him, and that—

Leon cut his gaze to the right and, yep, Chris was still fucking naked, and now he was standing beneath the hot spray, tilting his head back, eyes shit, letting the water run down his body and turn him into some glistening Abercrombie model that would’ve given Leon a pretty bad bisexual panic as a teenager. Leon was in a shower, surrounded by hot steam, and yet his mouth was dry. “Should you really be doing this with your injury?” Leon asked.

“Didn’t you crawl through the sewers of Raccoon City and fumble your way into an Umbrella facility with a bullet in your shoulder?” Chris grabbed another bottle of diluted shampoo and squirt a healthy amount into his hands, working it into his short hair. “They gave me some painkillers, I’m fine. In and out, no need for anything else.”

Leon wet his lips. “… The blood…” He couldn’t get out more, not for a long moment, no matter how hard he tried. Chris stilled his washing and looked to Leon, those dark eyes heavy with a concern that made Leon tear his gaze away in shame. Leon stared at the bland, off-white tile in front of him and tried again. “The amount of blood on me sure said otherwise.”

Leon wished he hadn’t thrown that bottle so he could at least pretend he was still washing. He wanted to run because he knew he had no reason to still be in the shower, but running would probably come off as some sort of rejection even though Leon didn’t know if he’d been given any kind of possibility to reject to begin with. He stood there, too stubborn to do anything but look like an idiot, while Chris just stood there too, also a fucking idiot. They were just— they were both fucking idiots.

“I was scared,” Leon said as he realized he needed to take a step forward and meet Chris in the middle if he wanted something even relatively close to a chance. “I’m always scared, but like— it’s one thing to be looking out for myself and having my own life in my hands and no one else to rely on. At least then, whatever mistake I make will directly affect only me. Maybe the world will end, but I won’t be around to see it, so it won’t matter. What I can’t handle is the fear of failing someone else. Someone I care about. I can’t handle the idea that you could have died and I would have lived on. So carrying you like that, having all of that blood on me— I was scared.”

A quiet fell between them, just the water hitting tile, and Leon reached out to turn off his shower and leave when Chris spoke. “I wasn’t scared.”

Leon grimaced. “Yeah, well, you’ve got the soldier brain. Dying isn’t the worst thing in the world to you.”

“That’s not it.” Leon still couldn’t look at the guy. The tile was honestly disgusting, and there might have been black mold in the grout. He wondered when was the last time that O’Brian guy had allowed the resources for a good deep clean of this place. “I wasn’t scared because I knew you would handle it.”

That—

“You’re lying again,” Leon accused evenly. “If you really believed that, you wouldn’t have told me to leave you behind.”

“You misunderstand,” Chris told him. “I told you to leave me behind because I knew you’d sooner let yourself die than let me fall. So I told you to leave me behind because it was the only logical outcome. Between the two of us, you had the only gun and you were the one with the correct number of holes in your body. I was weighing you down and I was going to be the reason you’d die because you would never, ever leave me behind. So I tried to make you do it because a failed mission isn’t an option, and even just one survivor makes it a success when it comes to BOWs. But I never felt a moment of fear, because I knew that you would handle the mission and you’d be around to save the world if I died.”

Leon felt like he couldn’t breathe. “You…”

“You told me to have faith in you,” Chris said. Leon finally turned to look at him, saw the even, steadfast belief Chris had in him broadcasted from those eyes like television, in his face and undeniable. Leon’s chest clenched painfully and he didn’t know how to cope with the emotions rushing his thoughts, the gratification and relief and gratefulness and devotion to Chris, the first person to really believe in him and know what it meant to believe in someone like Leon S. Kennedy. Leon felt like his legs were going to give out.

“You told me to have faith in you,” Chris repeated, a strong arm reaching out to touch Leon’s shoulder, skin on skin, wet and hot and piercing Leon’s overwhelmed mind with singular clarity of sensation. “I have always had faith in you, Leon, and I always will, because you’re the only person in this fight that I can trust to stay at my side and carry me when I fall. And it’s always been you. And— it will only ever be you.”

Leon’s breath caught in his lungs. Then he shoved Chris back against the shower wall, dropping to his knees in front of the man and looking up with dark eyes, clear intent written across his face and grinning when he saw he’d taken Chris by surprise.

“Leon, you—”

“I want to.” He knew exactly what Chris was going to say, knew what was going through the man’s head, that selfless martyrdom extending far beyond the battlefield. And while Leon admired that level of self-sacrifice, he really didn’t want to have a conversation about Chris’s personal persecutions while they were both naked and crashing and needing to come off the adrenaline in a way that didn’t involve alcohol or cigarettes. Leon cast his eyes down, tried to keep the awe from showing in his features when he saw just how big Chris really was, close enough to touch and taste, something Leon intended to do. Leon wet his lips again and asked, “Can I?”

There was a groan from above, and Leon looked up to see Chris had put his head back against the tile behind him, a flush already crawling down his neck. The water ran down Chris’s body in rivulets and Leon couldn’t keep himself from running his palm up that flat, toned stomach, feeling the muscles ripple and jump beneath his palm, the edge of the plastic keeping Chris’s wound safe. The anticipation of permission was making Leon dizzy and he dragged blunt nails down Chris’s abdomen as he begged. “Please— want you in my mouth so fucking bad.”

“Jesus,” Chris rasps. Then, “Y-yeah, yes. Yes. If you want. But don’t— don’t do this if you think you have to.”

Leon’s heart melted a little. “You’re too kind,” he drawled as he trailed his fingertips down the miles of tight skin and through the small matting of curls at the base before wrapping his long fingers around Chris’s cock, stroking down the shaft and feeling it jump in his grip already, Chris making a sweet little noise above. “When was the last time you got your dick sucked?” Leon asked as he pumped Chris’s cock slowly, watching it fill and rise with more than a little interest, mouth watering. “Jesus christ, you gotta re-hem all your pants, I’ll bet.”

“Don’t talk about it,” Chris said with something like shyness and that—

Leon watched the cock fill his grip and leaned in, licking a stripe up the underside, following the line of the vein and dragging his tongue across the slit, tasting Chris and reveling in the sharp gasp overhead. He knew he’d never be able to get the entire thing in his mouth, but fuck, did Leon want to try. He steadied himself on his knees, nestled between Chris’s legs, keeping his touch experimental because he hadn’t done this in probably as long as Chris has had it done to him. The heated flesh weighed against his tongue, pinning it to the bottom of Leon’s mouth, and he sealed his lips around the head, sucking gently, just the head alone feeling huge. Chris flattened his hips against the wall and one of his hands went to Leon’s hair, brushing through the wet locks, Chris’s eyes trained on Leon. His gaze felt electric and Leon shuddered involuntarily, his own cock hardening between his legs. Then, with their gazes still connected, Leon pushed forward and slips his lips down, taking as much of Chris as he could and—

Chris’s hips hitched forward and Leon choked on it, drawing off with a sputter, a weak noise slipping out of him as he flushed to the tips of his ears. “Sorry,” Chris said immediately, embarrassment written across his face. “I— sorry.” He smiled shakily. “It’s been a long time.”

Leon raised a brow, then grinned back and pumped the cock, leaning back in without another word to sink back onto Chris, focusing on breathing through his nose as he flattened his tongue and took Chris down, forcing his throat to relax. He got down a few inches and mentally threw a fist into the air, swallowing carefully around the wide cock and casting his eyes up, watching Chris from beneath his dark lashes. Chris wasn’t even looking at him, head back on the tile as his stomach jumped in short, controlled breaths, the man obviously doing everything he could to keep from moving. And that— didn’t look fun at all.

Leon reached around and pinched Chris’s ass, Chris’s hips jumping forward, Leon prepared this time and taking the thrust down his throat with a moan. As Chris began to babble another apology, Leon pulled back off the cock, sucked gently on the head, and sunk right back down, showing Chris he could take it. There was a soft whisper of reverence above him. Leon took the hand that was fisted in his hair and used it to push his own head forward, sliding up and down the shaft and watching Chris the whole time waiting for him to get it.

“Oh fuck.” Chris got it. Then both of those huge hands were in Leon’s hair, carefully bringing Leon up and off and then back down, Chris feeding the length of his cock to Leon with the utmost care that had arousal singing in Leon’s veins. He moaned again, trembling with how good it felt for the huge girth to overwhelm his senses, the block of his airway sending a thrill through him with the momentary breathlessness. Leon sat back, obedient and willing, letting Chris fuck his throat at a steady pace.

The man’s own groans and slurred words of pleasure rang in Leon’s ears and echoed in the bathroom, the steady spray of the showers nothing more than white noise as Chris’s cock went deeper with each thrust. Leon’s own hard-on throbbed painfully and he brought a hand down, grasping himself tightly, a teasing pressure, refusing to let himself get off on this, wanting it to last forever for how good it felt. Then Chris’s hips jerked forward without control, a telltale sign of being close, and Leon choked on the cock again, but didn’t let Chris pull off, the strangled noise he let out catching on Chris’s erection and tightening the hold of his throat. His eyes watered and he whimpered again, squeezing himself more to keep from cumming from this alone.

“Leon,” Chris gasped from above. “Holy fuck, you—”

Leon looked up at Chris, blue eyes glassy as his arousal thrummed to new heights, his cock leaking onto the tile beneath him, Chris’s shaft stretching Leon’s mouth wide, lips swollen and glistening, a pretty picture Leon knew would make thousands in porn, Chris—

Yanked his cock from Leon’s mouth, Leon gulping down air now that he could breathe again, his thighs shaking with desire and anticipation. He dropped forward, resting his forehead on Chris’s hip, that full, heavy cock pressed against his cheek. Leon turned to place a kiss on the shaft before wrapping his tongue around what he could get, his hand coming back up to stroke the rest of what his tongue couldn’t reach. “Why’d you stop?” he rasped, voice ruined by the way Chris had fucked his throat. “Wanna taste you.”

“Wanna fuck you.”

Leon groaned and shut his eyes, needing to take a moment and regain control of himself. He swallowed hard and clutched Chris’s huge thighs to ground himself. “Me too,” he finally got out. “God, yes, me too.”

Chris laughed softly above him and Leon dragged his eyes up as the hands on his hair became a soothing touch, cradling Leon to Chris’s body. “You— jesus, you do that a lot?”

“Suck cock or choke on it?” Leon grinned at the bashfulness that overcame Chris’s expression at Leon’s blunt words. “Not often, but…” He couldn’t meet Chris’s eyes for this next confession. “Got a few toys. I like the idea of it more than anything. Never really had someone I could trust to do something like that, never had someone I was sure would try to keep me safe for it, until… until you.”

Chris’s head thunking against the wall behind him was audible. “Toys,” Chris repeated, voice low. “Fucking toys.”

Leon grimaced, almost ashamed. “It’s not like dating is—”

The hands in his hair tightened and drew Leon to his feet with near-painful demand, Leon standing on wobbly legs all too willingly as Chris pulled Leon into him to kiss him. Leon moaned into Chris’s mouth, wondering if Chris would taste his own cock on Leon’s tongue, and looped his arms around Chris’s neck, relying on the larger man to keep him standing, their hard cocks wedged together between their bodies, erections sliding together, wet and tantalizing. “Wanna see that,” Chris growled into Leon’s mouth. “Wanna see you choke on these toys while I get my mouth on you. Wanna hear you fucking scream around a fake cock and feel you cum.” He sunk his teeth into Leon’s lower lip, nearly drawing blood and making Leon whine. “Wanna make you cum so hard you black out.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Leon wheezed. “Wh-who the fuck gave you such a dirty mouth, Redfield?”

“Pretty sure it’s from years of having to watch you do all your agile flips and shit and having to satisfy myself with fantasies,” Chris said. “So you, Leon. You have me this dirty mouth.” He pulled back from the kiss, eyes glinting as he— he fucking winked. “And you know you love it.”

Leon arched a fine brow, then grinned. “Then— I guess it’s my professional duty to take full responsibility, don’t you agree?” He reached down and grabbed Chris’s cock in his confident hand, the slick of his spit still clinging despite the water, Chris’s pupils blowing wide.

Then Chris tugged at Leon’s hair and growled, “Gonna make you take me, Leon.”

Leon’s knees went weak and his cock was dribbled precum against Chris’s belly, he loved it so fucking much that he couldn’t think. “Fuck me,” he demanded. “Been how many years of this pining bullshit? Just fuck me, Chris.”

Chris nodded and grabbed the bottle of shitty soap. “I know you hate this shit,” he said as he squirted the watered-down stuff into his hand. “But there’s a reason why it’s so popular among the people here.”

Leon made a face of genuine incredulousness. “Are you— you fuckers use it as lube?”

Chris grinned boyishly and got his slick palm around Leon’s cock. The soap wasn’t particularly strong or even useful, yet the slide was delicious, Leon’s brow furrowing in shock as his toes curled and his body canted up into that grip without his permission. Leon held tighter to Chris, needing to keep himself standing as Chris pumped his cock, the sound of the soap that was now obviously meant for more less than bathing piercing his ears. And Chris wouldn’t stop grinning. “What can I say?” Chris asked as he expertly took Leon apart with his quick pace. “We’re a versatile group of soldiers.”

“Oh god,” Leon breathed, lashes fluttering as the pleasure swam through him, trying to keep his eyes open even as he got close, the orgasm curling low in his gut and spreading through his limbs, and he was almost there, as long as Chris didn’t—

Chris pulled his hand away and Leon could have shot someone. “Please,” he burst out feverishly. “Please, please, not again, your fucking edging kink, I can’t take it again, please, I—”

Chris kissed him into silence and wrapped his arms around Leon’s torso after squirting another dollop of the “soap” onto his hand. He pulled Leon into his chest while leaning back against the wall, planting his feet and taking Leon’s weight as Leon was laid across Chris’s angled body, the strength of the man on display as Leon went limp when cool fingers dipped between the cheeks of his ass and pressed against the furled muscle Leon rarely explored.

Leon bit his lip and clung to Chris, his hard-on trapped against Chris’s, the lack of movement forcing a torturous tension through him, Chris somehow baiting Leon even without a hand on him. The fingers against him were trailing circles in his heated flesh and Leon shook atop the man, on his tiptoes and struggling for purchase on the wet ground as he tried to squirm down and onto the fingers, needing something inside of him. The arm around his waist pinned Leon in place and he was going to lose his shit if Chris didn’t—

Chris dipped a finger inside of Leon and Leon went very still, holding his breath as that single, wide finger pushed in and stroked his inner walls. “Oh fuck,” Leon whimpered, splayed out across Chris and just taking it, trying to spread his legs and rock down on that single finger that slid in and out, testing what Leon could take and opening him up for more. “Chris,” he said, burying his face in Chris’s neck. “Fuck, yes, please— I can take it.”

“Gotta be careful,” Chris mumbled, his own cock heavy and demanding and twitching between them as Chris picked up the pace, fucking Leon on the finger earnestly and then slipping in a second, the wetness of the soap squelching and making Leon shudder. “Not exactly looking to hurt you, sweetheart.”

The pet name had Leon melting even as logic warred in his brain. “Y-you’ve got bullet wounds,” Leon reminded Chris breathlessly, eyes slipping into the back of his head as the pads of Chris’s fingers dragged over his prostate. Oh fuck, he could never really reach that thing properly and now Chris was playing with it. Chris’s fingertips drummed atop the bundle of nerves and Leon sobbed. “Bullets, bullets,” he babbled, thinking of the plastic that was taped to Chris’s side, the gauze beneath, the injury hidden from sight. “Oh fuck, Chris—”

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Chris moaned into his ear as he worked in a third finger. Leon keened softly, he needed more, he needed—

Leon suddenly reached back, grabbing Chris by the wrist and yanking those fingers out of himself, body mourning the loss even as Leon planted his feet on the ground and staggered back. He grabbed the bottle of fucking amazing soap and poured it into his hand, fisting Chris’s cock and slicking the man up with sharp strokes, watching Chris closely as he gave him the same torment Chris used on him, getting Chris higher and higher and then pulling his hand away entirely, stepping back, hands in the air, putting his back to the wall and spreading his legs, up on his toes again and arching his spine.

“Please,” he begged, his throbbing erection standing red and proud, oozing more slick with how desperate he was. “I can take it— I can take you.” He smiled shakily, feeling out of his mind. “I feel like my body was made for you before I even knew your name. Just, please— please.”

Chris stood and stared at Leon for a long, indecipherable. Then he strode forward, crowding Leon against the wall and taking one of Leon’s thighs in his firm grip to yank it up and hook it over his shoulder, Leon’s legs spread so wide that he could feel the stress in the tendons as his hole was stretched. Leon moaned with his other leg still on the tiled floor, his torso sideways, the scratches down his back stinging in a way that felt almost good, arms braced on the wall. “You’re— lucky I’m flexible,” Leon barely got out, incredibly aroused by the way Chris had manhandled him into the exact position the man wanted him in. “God, Chris, you’d probably break anyone else.”

“Like you said,” Chris rumbled in his chest. “Your body was made for me.”

Leon hung his head and steadied himself against the wall as his whole body shook with the weight of Chris’s words, the simple acknowledgment that Chris felt the same away making his heart seize in his chest and his hard-on twitch and drip, a spasm of pleasure forcing more precum from his body. Leon dug his teeth into his swollen lower lip and fought for control again, feeling Chris’s cockhead brush his entrance, pressing bluntly but not pushing in. Leon tore into his lower lip and looked up at Chris with his pupils blown wide. “Please,” he whispered, knowing he couldn’t take much longer, and neither could Chris. “It’s been years— don’t make me wait any longer.”

Chris splayed his head out across Leon’s straining thigh, ran it down the flesh that took Chris’s touch with electric intensity, and dragged his palm down the line of Leon’s flat stomach to take his hip, hold Leon still, and feed his cock into Leon’s body with undying care. Leon let out this noise and his head dropped back as he squeezed his eyes shut and made himself breathe, the sensation of being pushed so wide apart robbing the air from his lungs. It seemed to go on forever, the gentleness of Chris’s hands on him contrasting with the bluntness of being entered and the tremble of his muscles from being held open like this. Leon was shaking against the wall and he wrapped his fingers around the head of his cock to keep this from ending too soon, because he’d waited so fucking long to have Chris like this, and he wasn’t about to blow it. Ages passed before Chris finally stopped, his body flush against Leon’s, and it felt—

“Made for me,” Chris said, voice low and just as ragged as Leon felt. Leon forced his eyes open to look at the other man and saw the slack jawed look on his face, the desire and barely-restrained need warring with bliss. Chris bent forward, his other arm coming out to brace himself against the wall behind Leon’s head. Chris bore into Leon with his deep, warm eyes. Leon couldn’t fucking breathe. Then Chris smiled almost lovingly and rolled his hips forward and Leon—

”Oh fuck,” Leon whimpered, dropping his head again and struggling to cope with the sensation of Chris inside of him, finally inside, after years and years of pining and dreaming and hoping and wishing and it was everything Leon could have imagined and wanted and so much more, split open on that huge cock with Chris’s everything zeroed in on Leon and only Leon and there wasn’t— “I’m not—“ Leon cut himself off with a sob of pleasure as Chris set a rhythm. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Yeah,” Chris breathed, arching over Leon and picking up the pace gradually as Leon’s body adjusted, opening up for more of Chris, that pleasure resurging as the steady push of Chris into him kept shoving Leon’s thoughts away. He fumbled for purchase on the tiled wile, scrabbling for something to hold onto as the thrusts became almost bruising, the slap of their skin echoing around them and fraying Leon’s sanity.

Words were shoved out of him with his oxygen, fucked up little phrases and pleas that he couldn’t understand himself, but they were working, Chris’s expression becoming focused and determined as Leon was shoved into the wall with the force of each thrust, words beginning to fail him completely, cut off by the moans that were fucked out of his throat. He turned his face into the cool tile and just held on, struggling to keep himself standing, toes slipping across the floor and Chris’s arm keeping him up and braced between the wall and that huge, strong body. Chris loomed above Leon, overwhelming and overcoming all of Leon’s world as he was fucked senseless.

Then the hand was off his hip and pulling Leon’s own grip away from his cock and Leon—

His vision went white like he was dying and Leon’s knee buckled beneath him, his orgasm tearing through him like a tidal wave. There was a distant sound of someone almost crying, and Leon knew it was him because that was the only way he could feel himself survive the sensation of cumming on Chris’s cock. He should have hit the floor by now as he lost time and sense of self, writhing on the shaft inside of him that was still moving, still fucking him, still bruising his prostate and sending dull sparks through Leon that he couldn’t endure. Then there was the hot splash of Chris cumming inside of him and god, fuck, fuck, Leon could almost cum again from how good that felt, he couldn’t keep standing, he was going to—

Leon came back to himself to the sensation of being lowered carefully to the floor, his entire body heaving for breath with the warm water washing away all traces of his pleasure fro his skin, wrapped up in Chris’s arms, who was on his knees, holding Leon in his lap, pressing lazy kisses to Leon’s feverish skin, his own movements sluggish. Leon looked down between their bodies and shuddered as he registered the sensation of Chris’s softening cock pressed between his thighs.

Chris hummed tiredly and kisses Leon’s cheek. “You back?”

“Fuck off,” Leon shot back reflexively, his words slurred. “What the fuck— what the actual fuck is your dick? How did it do that?”

Chris laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest and into Leon. “I would brag something about experience, but I actually haven’t got a lot of that when it comes to something like this. Being with someone, actually giving a fuck that it’s amazing for you.” He buried his face in Leon’s neck and Leon curled his arms around the man’s head, holding Chris close. “Guess we’re gonna have to figure this out together, huh? I-if you want.”

“You’d have to kill me to get rid of me now,” Leon murmured. “Get off the floor, idiot. You’re injured.”

Chris snickered. “You were the one who nearly fell on your ass.”

“You were the one with your dick up my ass— should’ve kept me up, Redfield, it’s only polite.”

There was another lazy press of Chris’s lips to his pulse. “Guess you’re right,” Chris murmured. “Guess I really am stuck with you.”

Leon suddenly stiffened and tried to stand, legs wobbling beneath him, his body protesting the pain. “Don’t sound so unhappy about it.” The peaceful feeling of being in Chris’s arms after coming together so intimately died quickly, even though Leon knew it was irrational. Chris didn’t mean anything by it, Leon was just— he was just insecure, that was it, he’d been Chris’s last choice for help and last choice in everything. Just because Chris wanted to fuck him and maybe be something with him didn’t mean that—

Chris took Leon by the arm and frowned up at Leon, threading their fingers together even as Leon tried to pull away. “What did I say?”

Leon instantly felt bad and winced. “Nothing,” he mumbled. “Nothing, I just—” He cut himself off again and wrapped an arm around his middle, feeling raw and unprotected like this, even when Chris was the one looking up at Leon, the very position Leon being in one of power over the other man. Yet Leon still felt like he was the one skinned alive with bones exposed. “It’s nothing.”

Chris ran his thumb over Leon’s knuckles and stood with him. They were both moving carefully, testing injuries and aches. An aggressive round of sex, while therapeutic and and definitely pleasurable, wasn’t exactly smart after the op they just came off of. Leon watched the way Chris walked with sharp eyes, his attention trained on the wrapped bullet wounds. He kept his free hand out, always ready to steady Chris should he fall.

“I know what you’re thinking about.”

Leon couldn’t meet his eyes. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” The thumb on his knuckles became fingers that squeezed. “You know when I went to you? When I told you that you were my last choice? It’s not because I don’t want you around. It’s because I don’t want you in this awful, violent world anymore than you need to be.”

Leon looked up and saw Chris was smiling sadly at him. “Maybe it’s wrong to think I can protect you, but I try to do it anyways. Not because you can’t handle it. Not because you’re not one of the best there is. I just try to protect you because I don’t think anyone else ever has before.”

And just like that, Leon’s final anxiety fell away and he felt himself succumb completely to Chris Redfield and everything the man meant to him. Leon surged forward, going up on his toes to kiss Chris hungrily, cupping the man’s stubble-dotted jaw and trying to convey every emotion he couldn’t name into the kiss itself. “I fell in love with you years ago,” Leon whispered into his lips. “I’ll make you fall in love with me one day.”

Chris smiled wider against him. “Sweetheart, the day I fell in love with you is ages behind us. You missed it by about six years. China was a fucking mess, but the way you believed in me?” Chris shook his head like words were failing him. “You said you knew I’d do the right thing. I hadn’t really wanted to do the right thing until I saw that you thought I could. I wanted to be the man you thought I was. I wanted to be who you see me to be. And I realized I was in love with you even when I didn’t fully remember you.” His smile became a little aching. “Took me losing all memory of myself and you to realize what I felt for you was so much more than just camaraderie. It was— it was beyond loyalty. Beyond trust. It was devotion. Allegiance.” Chris swallowed thickly. “Love.”

Leon grinned as his heart skipped a beat. “We’re idiots.”

Chris hummed his agreement and leaned into Leon, letting the smaller man take some of his weight, a show of trust that Leon would never, ever grow used to or take for granted. “The perfect pair. Made for me, right? I have a feeling I was made for you.”

Leon didn’t have words for how amazing ti was to hear Chris say that. They stayed pressed together for a few moments longer, kissing and tasting one another and moving as one, the shower running cold and neither of them caring, neither of them bothering to break apart until they heard a voice.

“Is it safe?”

Chris stilled against Leon and then frowned, lifting his head to squint in the direction of the lockers outside of the shower. “D.C.?”

A head peaked around the corner of the lockers, a teasingly condescending expression on the Silver Dagger pilot’s face. “Y’all finally done or should I give you five more minutes?”

Chris’s brain worked deliberately, the gears visibly turning on Chris’s face. Leon rolled his eyes and playfully tapped Chris’s chest, getting the man’s attention before reminding him, “Public showers, baby.” It took another second before understanding washed over Chris’s face and he nodded slowly. Then Chris leaned down for one final, wet kiss to Leon’s lips before he was turning away, picking up the bottle of nearly-empty soap they’d been using, darting into the lockers and cackling as he threw the bottle at D.C.’s feet. Leon watched as D.C. shot into view— also fucking naked, jesus, the audacity of the BSAA agents— with a towel all twisted up, snapping it at Chris’s back.

“Children,” Leon said as he leaned back against the wall and watched with unbridled amusement. “Absolute fucking children.”

“Take your man home if you wanna fuck him!”

“We’re in Europe, his place and my place are back in North America!”

“Doesn’t mean we gotta hear him getting fucked!”

“You’re just jealous!”

“In your dreams, Redfield! I just made twenty bucks, I’m on top— unlike Kennedy!”

“Gonna make you eat your words and your money, D.C.!”

Leon smiled to himself and realized that even though he was very much used to being alone, he could definitely get used to this— he could definitely get used to being a part of Chris Redfield’s life and whatever that entailed. Leon didn’t have to risk being afraid because there wasn’t a risk to this at all. As long as he had Chris, Leon was safe to make any leap into the unknown.