Chapter Text
The sound of sizzling butter fills the small kitchen as you continue to chop the mushrooms with more enthusiasm than skill. Your arms feel heavy, the exhaustion from the mission clinging to your bones, but the awareness of Leon standing so near you right now makes up for all of that. It turns the fatigue into a fast heartbeat in your chest.
Leon finally strolls completely into the kitchen to help you cook, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. His expression is a mix of amusement and skepticism as he watches you struggle with the knife. "Shouldn’t you know how to use a knife properly since you’re a field agent?" he says, stepping beside you. Before you can protest, he plucks the knife from your hand and takes over, his movements precise and efficient. "Here. Let me show you how it’s done."
You lean against the counter, arms crossed, but there’s no real annoyance in it. "Well, I use this skill to kill zombies, not to slice them into even pieces," you tease, watching as he dices the mushrooms with practiced ease. "Since when do you even cook?"
"Since I got tired of eating MREs," he shoots back, not looking up. "You pick up a few things when you’re stuck in safe houses for weeks." He nudges the cutting board toward you. "Your turn. Try not to maim yourself."
You grab a handful of mushrooms and attempt to mimic his technique, but your slices are uneven and clumsy. Leon snorts. "That’s not how you do it. Here—" He covers your hand with his, guiding the knife. His fingers are warm and calloused. "Like this. Steady pressure."
The contact sends a jolt through you, and for a second, you forget how to breathe. His grip is firm but not overbearing, and when you glance up, his eyes are already on you, that damn knowing look in them. "You’re a terrible student if you can’t focus on the topic you’re being taught," he murmurs, but there’s no bite in it.
You roll your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitches. "And you’re a terrible teacher, making me lose focus." Neither of you comments on the flirting any further.
You try again on your own to just focus on the mushrooms and not on the fact that a really hot man is standing inches away from you. This time, the slices are better. The rhythm of the knife against the board, the scent of garlic and wine filling the air it’s almost enough to make you forget the weight of the day.
"So," you say a few minutes later, stirring the risotto as Leon tosses in the mushrooms, "that lab. You said it was supposed to be easy?"
He exhales through his nose, a half-laugh. "Yeah. And then it wasn’t." He doesn’t elaborate, but the tension in his jaw tells you enough. "Your turn. What were you doing out there?"
"Same as always," you shrug. "Trying not to die." You glance at him, catching the way his gaze flicks to you before he looks away. There’s something there something he’s not saying. But then, that’s Leon.
The risotto bubbles, the scent rich and comforting. You stir, and Leon leans in, checking the consistency. "Needs more stock," he says, reaching for the pot. His arm brushes against yours, and for a second, neither of you pulls away.
Then he turns to you, his expression unreadable. "Thanks," he says, quiet but sincere. "Back there. I... don’t know how this would have ended without you he..."
You cut him off with a look. "You don’t have to thank me. It’s what we do, Leon."
His eyes hold yours, fierce and grateful, and for a moment, the kitchen, the food, the exhaustion it all fades. There’s just this. The two of you, alive, here.
And for the first time in a long time, the exhaustion doesn’t feel so heavy.
The risotto steams between you, its rich aroma filling the small kitchen. You both take your first bites, and Leon’s expression shifts from skepticism to reluctant approval. "Okay, this is actually good," he admits, taking another mouthful. "I might wanna cook with you again."
You smirk, swirling your fork in the creamy dish. "High praise from the great Leon S. Kennedy. I’m honored."
He chuckles, shaking his head, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that wasn’t there before. The two of you eat in comfortable silence for a moment, the clink of forks against plates the only sound. Then Leon sets his down, leaning back slightly. "Tomorrow’s gonna be a nightmare. Cleaning gear, and doing paperwork for the missions…" He sighs, rubbing his temple. "I hate paperwork more than zombies."
You groan in agreement, pushing your plate away. "Same. But it’s got to be done. Maybe we can make it less painful if we do it together?"
Leon studies you for a second, then nods. "Yeah. Actually…" He hesitates. "You wanna come over to my place? We can get it all done there. Less… distracting than here." His voice is casual, but there’s something underlying it something you aren't able to read.
You look up at him, surprised but trying not to show it. "You’re inviting me to your place? What, are you worried I’ll slack off if you’re not there to supervise?"
He snorts. "Please. I know you’d rather face a horde of zombies than do paperwork alone. But yeah, I’d…" He trails off, then clears his throat. "I’d like the company."