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They first met in 1998. It was a harsh winter, no more than a few days after Christmas. Chris had been operating solo since the Spencer Mansion incident in further investigation of the Umbrella Corporation's headquarters in Europe. The dirt he had managed to dig up in the few months since being stationed overseas was more than enough to shut down the facility for good. Illegal B.O.W. development, involvement in mass murder and bio-terrorism, unethical experimentation on innocent civilians. Their M.O. consisted of marginalized groups and orphans, people that nobody cared to look for.
His one-man mission was abruptly suspended when rookie cop Leon S. Kennedy showed up unannounced at his hotel room.
Chris usually kept the blinds shut, yet the first indicator was the faint silhouette that came to stand before the front door, a looming shadow seeping through the gap under the door. His first and only assumption was that he had somehow gotten compromised. By the time the door handle had begun to rattle, he had already flattened his back against the wall inches away, his Glock 17 loaded and ready. When the door was carefully pushed open, a foot taking a step further, he struck. He proceeded to grapple with the man, shoving him to the floor. Then, for a second, Chris nearly lost his grip on his handgun as his senses were smacked head-on by a distinct aroma of freshness, an underlying yet intense hue of crisp saltiness.
It was staggering, obnoxiously overwhelming in a typical alpha fashion, though the nature of the scent was unlike anything he had ever encountered. He didn't have the time to think about how surprisingly tolerant (pleasant, his mind provided, but he refused to acknowledge the thought) it was as a hand struck at his hand in possession of the handgun, fingers snatching his wrist.
The moment his sister's name tumbled out of that babied face alpha, rationale was tossed out of the window. His protective instincts immediately hackled, dropping the gun to fist the man's shirt collar, lips pulled back in a snarl. Thankfully for both of them, the alpha, as he later introduced himself as Leon Kennedy, was sent by Claire since she couldn't reach him herself.
Chris didn't linger to exchange pleasantries with Leon. The words Raccoon City and government-issued thermobaric missile had him swiftly abandoning his mission in search of his sister, the road leading him to Rockfort Island in the South Atlantic.
Their second encounter would come nearly seven years later during a period of respite, a meet-up spurred on by Claire. She claimed it was long overdue, seizing the opportunity since the three of them were pardoned from the clutches of work.
He didn't think twice before agreeing to this little get-together for the three of them. Besides, he never got to thank the man for going to all that trouble to seek him out and find him all those years ago. However, as it would turn out, he had greatly underestimated the passage of time. Gone was the 21-year-old baby alpha, replaced by the elite DSO agent, having bulked up and matured into sharp jawlines and keen, hardened eyes. Once again, his memory was prodded by that unique scent, a soothing sea breeze caressing his senses.
Of course, it was only natural he would grow into a proper, capable alpha. Chris resented him a little for the natural advantage Leon always had. Not that he would ever come to know it, or anyone else, for that matter. The only ones who knew about the true nature of his sub-gender were his sister, Jill, and his doctor, who was assigned to him before his initial service in the Air Force. To everyone else, Chris was known as the alpha with the faded vanilla scent.
Despite his bias, he couldn't say he was much surprised when the two of them seemed to fall into a silent understanding. When faced with the bone-wearied lines of Leon's tense posture and the sheer exhaustion that stole the vividness from his blue eyes, leaving an inescapable hollowness in its wake, it was difficult not to sympathize. That devastating fatigue, their sanity held together by a thin, worn-down string. Biology aside, in this line of work, it was damn near impossible to find someone with shared life experience.
Overall, the now official meeting was a success. Frankly, Chris didn't expect the two of them to keep in touch. Leon was more of Claire's friend and contact, and he thought it would always remain that way. However, as fate would have it, their paths somehow kept crossing one another. Their respective missions, separate leads that eventually led them to join hands against their shared objective. Chance meetings brought together by mutual colleagues.
Then, Leon's poor habit of drowning his problems with shots of alcohol went off the rails. Chris caught a glimpse through the cracks of that carefully-crafted facade when he had to rush Leon to the ER at 3 in the morning, when he found the man passed out and completely wasted on the side of a road behind a bar. Then, he proceeded to pull rank on him, even though he had no jurisdiction in U.S. Government affairs, but a line had to be drawn. Leon was in no shape to stand up, much less be cleared to be sent on another mission. He handled everything whilst Leon remained unconscious in the ICU unit. His handler, Ingrid Hunnigan, when informed about the severity of his condition, was more than willing to provide a sabbatical for however much time was needed.
As expected, Leon did not take the forced suspension with much enthusiasm. More than anything, Chris assumed that Leon's vehement reaction stemmed from the inherent humiliation of being subjected to another alpha's command, acting as a superior. On some level, he could relate. Chris was far from the poster boy of discipline. His discharge for insubordination from the U.S. Air Force was proof of that.
The ground between them was delicate in the following months. He didn't care about Leon's fragile alpha ego. If it meant saving the man from near alcohol poisoning, he would do it all over again. Mostly because Claire seemed to really feel for the guy, and he didn't want to see his sister wasting her tears over him.
"It's cute."
Chris blinked, looking at Claire. "What's cute?"
"The way you care about Leon. He might not show it, but he appreciates it more than you'll ever know. And I think you like having someone to care for- well, other than me. This is different." Claire flashed him a knowing smile which he did not like the implications of. What kind of delusional conclusions was she jumping to?
"First of all, it's called professional concern. I'm mostly putting up with him for you since he's grown on you so much. Besides," he said with a wave of his hand, "this line of work is already understaffed as it is. We can't afford to lose another agent."
"Sure, Chris, if you say so," she replied with poorly-restrained amusement.
He frowned, but bit down on the rising retort, refusing to rise to the bait. Ever so slowly, the ice between them began to thaw. The second and defining step for the development of their relationship was taken eight years later.
When Piers died, he hit rock bottom. He was stuck in an endless loop of misery, and there was no sign of hope he could discern at the end of the tunnel.
Edward, Kenneth, Forest, Enrico, Richard. His expedition teams- so many good, honest men and women lost. Then Jill. By fate, he was lucky enough to get her back only 3 years ago. The utter devastation he suffered on that wretched mission in Edonia left him stranded. The toll was so high that Chris' body went into shutdown. For six months, he survived on booze while managing his time with dirty jobs that nobody else wanted to get their hands on. It was an utter humiliation and a disservice to everyone he failed when his trauma laid everything to waste. The selfish act of oblivion, those six months of blissful ignorance- it was his greatest sin yet.
He failed every single person that was ever assigned under his command. It was a death sentence, he thought. There was nothing heroic about him. His footsteps marked tragedy and pestilence wherever he went.
For over a decade, Chris had convinced himself that the pain was worth it. All the sleepless nights, the ghosts that would haunt his conscience for the rest of his miserable days. In the end, despite the losses, they fought to make the world safer. Now, as he took in the festering rot that threatened to swallow him whole, standing at the center of a graveyard of his buried comrades turned victims, his resolve was wavering. Perhaps he was the cause of what was wrong with the world.
He was a fool to ever believe that he could become something he was not.
Chris had been holed up in his apartment ever since. Their return from China was a rough trip. He could barely see beyond the mist of his own grief. The time when he had been last unmedicated seemed like a lifetime ago. Years upon years of routine doses of suppressants had corroded all shreds of instincts from his inherent biology. At least, that's what he assumed was the case until a spark of need stirred inside his guts, a distorted and muted howl urging him to find comfort, to lick and nurse his bleeding wounds.
For over twenty years of pretending to be something he could never be, this was to be his breaking point.
They were given a couple of days to get their bearings and give their bodies some time to heal before they were to be thrown on another mission. Chris hadn't uttered a single word throughout the entire trip of 17 hours, but then again, neither had anyone else. Once they landed in New York, after Helena, Jake and Sherry went their separate ways, he prepared for the dreadful relief of having to drag himself home alone.
He didn't have much capacity to care about Leon's impulsive decision to stick around. He figured he wanted to see Claire. He barely said a word to the man before he left him stranded on the sidewalk as he took his usual route to his apartment. When their mandatory days off were up, he took extra sick days off, something he never dared to do in the past. In this life, there was no such thing as rest.
When it didn't seem like he was willing to pick himself up, it was his sister who first reached out to him, showing up unannounced. Her familiar Beta scent of a fruity yet slightly tangy feel was momentary enough to pacify him. He didn't realize it, but seeing his sister alive and well would help in soothing the mourning wails in his head. That's what she claimed it was. Claire was hesitant about it, her tone mellow and tender, her eyes showing the sorrow of understanding. She handled him like he was fragile, as if he would shatter into pieces at any possible moment. Instead, it filled Chris with irrational anger, wanting to lash out at her for treating him like that. Maybe the omega in you is mourning, she had stated with a sad look on her face. Her hand found his bicep, gentle. Patient. He barely restrained himself from shoving her away. Have you considered the possibility that you saw Piers as something… more?
He understood what she tried to imply. After all, Piers had been an alpha. Chris would come to regret it, as he all but tossed his sister out of the apartment after that moment. Then, when Jill came around to pay him a visit, he thought he would find all the answers within his partner. The words, however, refused to leave his mouth. They became stuck in a knot, a lump in his throat that made it difficult to breathe through. Jill might have remained quiet, but he could see the look in her eyes. They thought they understood. That everything could simply be explained by the reason of his omegan instincts battling to take over.
Two weeks later, Chris had stepped out for his monthly physical. When his doctor assured him that there was no drastic shift that could be marked as concerning (besides a slight spike in hormones, but that was most likely to be caused by the intense fluctuation of emotions), he returned to his apartment, taking the longer route in getting there.
He walked up the stairs, keys jingling as he went to open the door. His apartment was already unlocked. Chris only had a moment of suspicion, of muscles tensing in precaution when he sniffed, detecting a hint of saltiness in the air. His face twisted with a frown, his jaw locking in place. For a second, he thought about turning around and taking the same path down the stairs, but immediately rejected the idea, for his pride would not allow him to flee from his own apartment because of an alpha.
"I don't remember giving you a key." He said as soon as he stepped inside, untactfully toeing off his shoes by the door.
Leon stood in the living room between the couch and the coffee table, his back facing Chris. His jacket was discarded over the back of the couch, the lines of his shoulders strained and rigid, as the compressed shirt clung to his toned muscles. Chris forced his eyes away and shoved his hand in the right front pocket of his jeans, fishing for the half-crumbled pack. He tapped out the last remaining smoke and placed it between his lips before crushing the empty pack.
He lit what must have been the 20th cigarette for the day, yet it was hardly nearing afternoon hours. Lately, within the span of a single day, it was a routinely distraction for him to smoke nearly two packs.
"Claire was kind enough to lend me hers."
"Of course she did," he mumbled to himself as he took a long drag, the insides of his mouth and throat burning with that familiar prickling sensation before he exhaled. "I don't know what they told you, but I'm sure there are more important matters to attend to than to be wasting-"
He faltered in his steps when he rounded the couch, coming to a stop at the far end when he saw an unfolded paper in Leon's hands, the ripped envelope forgotten upon the coffee table. Fuck. Knowing Leon, the stubborn bastard was not going to let this go anytime soon. Christ, this was the last thing he needed to be dealing with right now.
"So, this is what you've been cooking up in here for the past month. No wonder you haven't shown your face. Did it take you that long to come to the decision, or were you just too much of a coward to turn this in yourself?" Leon's taunt came in a drawl, a tinge of disregard in his voice as if the whole ordeal was beneath him. When Chris dared to lift his eyes, he tensed, taken aback by the livid gleam in those eyes. He took a catalogue of the taut muscles, fingers clenched around the letter, crushing it in his grip. At that moment, Leon's expression was nothing short of predatory, incapable of telling whether he had ever seen him so enraged before.
It clogged the air in the space around them, the scent of a violent, unforgiving sea lashing at Chris, flooding his lungs and choking him with it.
"This is none of your business."
He was about to take a step forward and snatch the damn letter out of his hands when Leon petulantly ripped it to pieces, making a demonstration of it as he proceeded to toss the remaining bits of it onto the table.
"You don't get to quit. Not if I get a say in it."
"You don't want to do this, Leon." He said in warning, trying to distance himself from the situation, yet he could already feel his blood shimmering and broiling, a ticking bomb awaiting its trigger to be let loose.
He saw the shift of movement, but nearly faster than he could react, Leon closed the space between them enough to pluck the cancer stick from his mouth.
"If you're looking for a way out, these are definitely a guaranteed way of going about it. Maybe a bit slow on the process, but it'll get the job done eventually, right?" Leon commented whilst he stubbed the stick on the ashtray.
"What do you want, Leon?" He grumbled.
"You're back on active field duty. Several unusual serial murders have spread along the southern outskirts of the Amazon. The intelligence department has confirmed that it's a serial outbreak, an altered strain sold to individuals as some sort of new drug on the market. You need to identify the origins of the virus and the anonymous seller behind these attacks. You and Jill are flying out on this mission at 0600 tomorrow." Leon briefed him on the case he never asked to be assigned to, only instinctively catching the mission folder as it was shoved at his chest.
Chris glowered at the file in his hands. This was his ticket back in. He could either accept this and put everything behind him, or he could lay it all out and put an end to this. There was no other place where he could ever belong. This was his life's holiest purpose. The vicious, ceaseless cycle. This losing war. It was selfish of him to continue the fight when so many families, so many packs had been torn apart because of his incompetence.
He supposed it was natural for him to suffer loss after loss since he was never meant to hold such a position of authority.
"Go take a shower, Chris. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow. And since I'm feeling charitable today, I'll help you clean up your mess while you're at it. You better not take it for granted, though."
Leon crossed his arms over his chest, leveling him with an expectant look. He almost seemed as if he was barely holding back from trying to haul Chris' ass over to the bathroom. If it were so effortlessly possible, he was sure that Leon would not hesitate. It filled him with a sick sense of joy to know that, despite being an alpha, it was no easy feat to manhandle him as one pleased. After all, the decades of muscle on Chris weren't just for show. He had agonized for years upon years to achieve this physique, a disciplined consistency that never waned, the skin of which he finally felt somewhat comfortable enough to live in. Unfortunately, Leon was one persistent fucker. He wasn't going to let this go until he had his way.
"It wasn't your fault. His infection stage had progressed. There was nothing that could be done to save him."
It felt like a punch to the gut, digging into his solar plexus until all air was knocked out of him. His breath grew thin and ragged, a shrieking noise buzzing in his ears.
"Get out." He growled, his voice tearing at the seams with rumbling fury. Chris tossed the folder back at Leon, a few evidence photos falling out in the process. He turned around, meaning to detach himself from the situation. If he had to look at the pity in Leon's face for any more seconds, he was afraid he'd do something he would regret.
"After everything Nivans sacrificed for you, this is it? You're going to hand in your resignation letter and call it a day? Just gonna roll over and take it? I may not have known your second in command personally, but he did not sacrifice his life for you to run away with your tail tucked between your legs. Are you willing to set things right, or did the alpha I know die alongside him in Lanshiang?"
His self-restraint snapped with an audible crack as his vision flashed red. Chris surged around with the momentum of his swinging arm, but Leon was expecting it, counting on it, as he blocked his oncoming fist by grabbing at his wrist and maneuvering his arm away. There was no thought behind his attacks, he acted purely on blind emotion. A burst of anger followed each blow, yet his resolve soon began to wilt. Leon read him like an open book, blocking each strike with particular ease, those patient yet impassive eyes making him bristle.
Their tussling ended up with him on his back as Leon loomed above him, effectively crossing Chris' arms and pinning them against his chest.
"Are you done?" Leon asked.
For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to resist against the grip pettily, but the fight had already left his body, alongside the bottled-up resentment. Now, his body was left trembling, a biting coldness that chewed out a hole in his chest. He let his head loll to the side, eyes blankly falling over the filth and discarded mess on the floor, dirty rags and crumbled trash polluting his apartment.
"You're not going to guilt-trip yourself into an early grave, Chris. I won't let you."
"Why do you care?" He said, resignation marking the dullness in his voice. "Just leave me the fuck alone."
A beat passed, an oddly strained silence befalling them. When the firm weight of Leon's body became too much to bear, overly conscious of the way those strong thighs were hugging his midsection, fingers curled on his chin, coaxing his head back to the front.
Then, lips were surging against his own into a closed-mouth kiss. It took him several seconds to register the boldness with which Leon persisted, even going as far as tilting his head, their noses bumping ever so slightly.
His own attraction to Leon was something that he never allowed to flourish. Chris held no delusions; he knew that this little crush of his was never going to lead to anything substantial. He had made peace with being nothing more than good friends and co-workers a long time ago. Besides, everyone who knew Leon was aware of the torch he had been carrying for one particular Ada Wong, though it never seemed to work out. Even so, Chris has no business getting in the way of that. He was not about to overstep and force himself when he wasn't wanted. Even if Leon was somehow interested in Chris, he doubted the man would ever pursue another alpha.
At least, that's what he assumed the scene was up until this very moment.
He bucked his hips, shoving Leon away. Surprisingly, the alpha went without much protest, rolling into a crouch beside him. Chris jumped to his feet, stumbling a step away. He didn't dare raise his eyes, his heart thudding almost painfully against his ribcage. His lips tingled with the aftertaste of Leon's scent, a blend of saltiness with a warm undertone. If he focused hard enough, he could smell it in the air; the spike of trepidation and the intensity of want emitting from Leon.
"What was that for?"
"That was me being honest with myself for once," Leon said as he pushed himself to his feet. "I've been wanting to do that for years, but I was too much of a coward to do anything about it. I thought I could ignore it. Thought it would eventually go away. Turns out forgetting you ain't so easy."
The aching honesty in Leon's confession stabbed at his heart, his head reeling. He wanted to believe that the alpha was pulling a cruel joke, a shock factor to get his hopes up and get him moving, but he knew the man Leon was. A liar and a manipulator were far from it. A part of him -selfish and greedy- was soaring through the clouds. To think that his one-sided crush hadn't been quite so one-sided at all. All this time, when he thought that Leon would remain out of reach, nothing more than a desire unfulfilled, the bridge of mutuality between them was connected. His wants, however, held no significance when Chris did not deserve his friendship, much less to yearn for something more. Not when he didn't have the guts to be true to himself. He was an imposter, a facade of a warped, false identity. Leon deserved more than this. He deserved something real.
"We can't." He admitted.
"We can't." Came the flat echo. Eyes were drilling into the back of his head. "Because we're both alphas?"
"Because-" he bit down on his words, lips twisting into a pained grimace. Because I'm not. The words were left unsaid. Ironically enough, he wouldn't have minded had they both been alphas. Unlocking Pandora's box and releasing the confusing chaos that were his emotions for Leon was the last thing he needed right now. Perhaps Leon wouldn't mind either way- be it alpha, omega, or beta, but he feared the inevitable look of distrust if he were to find out that Chris had been lying to his face for over 15 years. He could continue with his life knowing that Leon might never be his, but he could never live with himself if Leon grew to despise him.
"I'm not giving up on you, and I'm sure as hell Nivans wasn't going to let you off that easy, either. Pick yourself up, Redfield. You have a duty to fulfill. I'd better hear you report in for your mission first thing tomorrow morning."
His fingers spasmed, gut clenching at the command. He hated the way he wanted to give in, barely controlling himself from immediately jumping to fall in line and please Leon's order. Footsteps, followed by the audible click of the front door opening and closing. The sound was almost deafening as he was left to the mercy of loneliness.
When Chris found the courage to move, his body guided him towards his bedroom. He knelt before the bed, reaching underneath for an old shoe box. He pulled it out and opened the lid. On top of the pile of items, Piers' ripped BSAA patch stared back at him. The blood had long since dried and seeped into the woven fabric.
The burden of leadership had crushed his resilience. He had been so lost, stranded at the deepest ends of a bleak ocean, that Chris was hours away from giving up on everything they had fought for. All his comrades lost, all of his friends that placed their trust in him, in his cause, all of those who gallantly followed him up to the stage of war and laid down their lives. He was about to forsake their will, their memories, to dispose of them as if they meant nothing.
He would fight, he would lose, but while he was still breathing, Chris would keep on fighting for all the souls that no longer couldn't.
He lifted the patch, resting it against his lips for a few seconds before setting it back in the box and laying it to rest. Once he slid the box back in its spot underneath the bed, he pushed himself up and took in the disorganized mess of his bedroom.
Just this once, he supposed he was indebted to Leon.
When Jill spotted him at the briefing at base, her face lit up. Then, she proceeded to smack at his bicep as hard as she could, growling at him with crackling thunder casting over her features. He wouldn't hear the end of it, that much was certain, but beyond her posturing and indignation at having been shut off all these weeks, her scent spiked with a bleeding concern. He had willfully driven them away, her and his sister. In a sense, he rejected them- he refused any and all help from them, neglecting his pack when he was in need of aid. Their anger was more than justified.
For the rest of the ride until they reached the Drop Zone, Jill was pressed by his side, her fingers curled around the scent glands on the inside of his wrist as a subtle way of scenting. Though he found the gesture endearing, he pretended to be none the wiser.
The mission lasted about two weeks, a successful run of zero casualties. Two soldiers from Team Bravo sustained some moderate injuries, but nothing severe that would require immediate attention.
"Don't disappear on us again, you hear me?" Jill caught his elbow just before they parted ways, leveling him with a hard look. "'Cause next time I won't be so forgiving."
"Loud and clear." He answered with a salute. Jill fell quiet, squeezing his arm before ultimately stepping away.
"Good. Now go get some rest. You look like shit."
He snorted. "Thanks, partner."
When he arrived home, he was out almost as soon as his head hit the pillows. He woke up ten hours later around noon, drowsily dragging himself out of bed to take a shower and strip the sheets from his bed. Once he felt like a proper human again now that all the grime, dirt, and dried sweat were washed off his body, a muffled ping buzzed from his bedroom. He quickly dried himself off and wrapped a towel around his midsection, stepping out of the bathroom.
Chris picked up his phone, his heart fluttering at the name displayed over the message on the lock screen.
Leon (1:26pm): Got time for a quick lunch? Heard you returned from your mission yesterday.
He stared at the screen, reading through the text more times than he'd like to admit. The cursor blinked at him mockingly. For the first time, he felt anxious at the prospect of meeting with Leon. Their last encounter didn't end on bad terms, per se. On the contrary, their conversation was enlightening, to say the least, but after Leon's… confession, he felt- exposed. For two weeks now, whilst on the mission, he barely allowed himself to get distracted, and yet thoughts of Leon would always weasel their way into the front of his mind. The weight of his body as he pinned Chris on the floor, the firm grip around his wrists, the taste of him on his lips-
He didn't want to lead the alpha on. Despite wanting nothing more than to return Leon's advances, the right thing was to let him go. Since Chris owed him one, he figured he could buy him lunch in gratitude for pulling his head out of the sand and let him down gently. Two birds with one stone.
He sent back a quick reply, choosing the restaurant for them, and started getting ready. Then, he lost track of time because he was too busy getting prepared and being indecisive over which shirt fit best, which was completely ridiculous since he was only agreeing to meet up with Leon to reject him. In the end, he put on a pair of cargo pants and a tight-fitting shirt, already running 10 minutes late to their agreed time.
As soon as he saw Leon already waiting outside the restaurant, leaning against the wall with his arms loosely folded over his chest, all of his previously crafted plans went out the window.
"Hey," he drily swallowed through the lump in his throat when Leon's head snapped up at the sound of his voice, the frown on his face easing away into a sly smile. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
"It's alright. I'll go easy on you just this once since this was your first op getting back into the field after six weeks. Shall we?"
He followed Leon inside the establishment as they got sorted to a table by the windows. They both ordered coffee, and as the waitress walked away from their table, Chris' fingers itched to reach inside his pocket and get out a smoke. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to buy new packs, though he ought to start cutting back on them. Instead, he placed his hand on the table, scratching at a chipped spot with his index finger.
The air between them was loaded, sitting heavy on his shoulders. He wetted his dry lips, yet the words refused to come to him. Chris glanced away from the window, turning to Leon with a feigned look of casualty. His heart lurched to his throat when he came face to face with Leon's rapt eyes zeroed in on him, a stupid smile curled on his mouth.
"What?"
"Nothing," Leon replied. He leaned back against the chair and crossed his right leg over the other. "It's good to see you up and about. So, how did you like South America? I hope Jill wasn't too rough on you."
"We were sent to Mocagua, Colombia, actually." He specified, then cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment at the unnecessary input. Why did he feel the need to say that? As if Leon didn't already know all the details of the operation- he was the one who personally selected this mission for him.
"Anyways, it was… it was good to be back on the field." He reluctantly admitted. Shame still simmered in his chest, lashing at him in licks of fire. He was more grateful to Leon for knocking some sense into him than the alpha would ever know.
"Oh, really?"
"Don't get too cocky, Kennedy." He lifted his cup, taking a sip of his black coffee. Leon lifted his arms, yet his eyes gleamed with playfulness. Then, once he overcame his initial inhibitions, his mouth opened, and the words began tumbling out like a broken dam. He mostly talked about the mission, then moved on to other related topics. At one point, Leon fell quiet, intently listening to Chris ramble on.
In the end, he completely forgot about bringing up the topic of putting a stop to whatever was brewing between them. Not only did Chris forget to do so, but he also didn't even get to pay for the coffee. Leon had gotten the bill sorted when he got up as an excuse to use the toilet.
Next time, he promised himself. The next time they were scheduled to go out, he would man up and give it straight to Leon.
And so, they went out a second time. And a third. And a fourth. He lost track around their 10th rendezvous. Each time, Chris hyped himself up, playing out the dreadful conversation in his head, but whenever he saw Leon, his confidence crumbled, and his selfish, foolish heart took control of the reins. Around the 5th meet-up, when he found himself getting seated at a fine-dining establishment, a reservation Leon had pre-booked just for the two of them, the thought struck his mind. This is a date. All of their little outings had been dates.
The realization plummeted in his gut when Leon had hesitantly outstretched his arm over the table, covering Chris' hand with his own, all the while his eyes were shyly averted, the tips of his ears burning in a red hue.
On the 15th or something date, Leon worked up the courage to close the space between them, take his face gently in his hand, and kiss him with such aching tenderness like it's all he had been thinking of.
When Claire stormed into his apartment, demanding to learn all the details about their newly formed relationship, he knew that there was no turning back. Soon, nearly everyone knew about the unusual relationship between alphas Leon S. Kennedy and Chris Redfield.
At the very least, they should talk about it before involving anyone else in their personal affairs, but they both seemed to draw back when confrontation was involved. He supposed neither of them wanted to risk shattering what they had built so far.
Inevitably, all good things came to an end. Only four months later, they were called in for a Code Red emergency, an outbreak in Sierra, California. Their intel on the perpetrator was lacking, believing them to be a reconstituted branch of Umbrella, but this altered strain was unlike anything they had ever encountered.
"I can't speak with confidence since I don't have a sample, but according to the virus's behavior, I suspect it's a combination of the Ouroboros virus with the G-virus." It felt like a fist seized his heart, clenching tightly until it was about to burst. Rebecca moved closer to the projecting screen, clicking a button on the remote in her hand to shuffle through various images.
"There's a new element I can't quite put my finger on. From what we know, it seeks a compatible host with a suitable genetic makeup, specifically alphas. If the host is incompatible, the embryo begins to eat away at the organism, inevitably leading to full necrosis. Now, once the hatching phase is successful, the infected subject goes through internal mutation. The effects are almost immediate. It begins with intense hormone fluctuations, which will then result in acute sexual aggression, increased strength, and extreme territorial behavior. Instinct for procreation becomes the sole drive.
We have reports of infected alphas propagating not only with omegas, but with betas as well, though statistically, omegas are more likely to be 'chosen' since their fertility rate is high. So far, our records show four fetal casualties for alphas, all males. Fetal casualties for omegas... over two dozen. As of yet, there is no cure, only containment."
A heavy silence followed Rebecca's detailed briefing. Chris was unable to turn away from the faces of the victims displayed on the screen, men and women ranging from their early 20s to 40s. Jill shifted beside him, her scent souring into burnt amber. Damian, Marco, and Josh, the heads of the other three squads in the SOU, regarded the information with grim expressions. God, he was so tired of this shit.
"What's the method of infection?" He asked, breaking the silence.
"Transmitted through ingestion of infected tissue. Essentially, anything that comes in direct contact with one's vascular system."
He nodded, taking a moment to absorb every single detail in Rebecca's gathered intel. Then, he stood up, took a few steps forward, and turned to face his team. "Alright, listen up. Teams Alpha and Bravo will lead the infiltration, while Team Charlie will be on stand-by. Our highest priority is to evacuate all civilians and secure the area. Next up, we'll need a sample brought back to HQ as soon as possible. Delta will be in charge of that. Each platoon leader will relay this to the rest of the soldiers. Any questions?"
The three men nodded in affirmation, a unison of 'yes, sir' followed by 'no, sir'.
"Good. We need to act before it's too late." He reached inside his pocket to take out a cigarette from the pack and placed it between his lips. "We're rolling out at 0900. Dismissed."
Marco, Josh, and Damian exited the lab, leaving the three of them alone. He patted himself down for his lighter, but the moment he found it in his back pocket, fingers snatched the stick from his mouth.
"Hey!"
Jill propped a fist on her hip and raised an eyebrow at him. "Didn't you say you were gonna quit this shit?"
"Whatever," he grumbled as he shoved the lighter back inside his pocket. "Guess we should start preparing to move out. Got a couple of long days ahead of us."
"Uh, I don't mean to be the devil's advocate, but…" Rebecca trailed off, fiddling with the buttons of the remote in her hand. She turned to Chris with a look of reluctance. "Are you certain you should be leading this operation since you're an alpha?"
His face must have twisted into a grimace because Rebecca rushed to answer, her hands raised in front of her, palms facing him. "I'm not implying that you're a liability or anything of the sort, I'm just- I'm worried about you, Chris. It's been days since the outbreak in Sierra, and I haven't come any closer to figuring out the components of a vaccine."
Her shoulders slumped, her form wilting. He stepped closer and squeezed her shoulder encouragingly. "That's only 'cause you've been working with scraps. Once my team gets in there and assesses the situation, we'll get you everything you need to start working on that vaccine."
Despite his efforts, Rebecca didn't seem any less concerned about the potential threat he was about to face. The kind, selfless choice would be to come clean right there and then, to finally tell her that he's never been an alpha in the first place, but he reasoned that it was hardly the time and place to breach that topic, not when time was limited. When he returned from the mission- if he returned, he decided he'd finally own up to his bullshit. He owed it to Rebecca as much as to his friends and comrades.
Most importantly, he owed it to Leon.
It was a bloody fucking mess. They had greatly underestimated the percentage of the population made up of alphas in rural Sierra. Once they came into contact, infected alphas would typically stalk and pursue the betas of his team, though not all of them seemed to operate by the same, rigid instincts. When going up against other alphas, the assault was relentless. They suspected the infected considered other alphas as potential competition, hence their aggressive killing instincts went haywire. Thankfully, Chris had upped his dose on suppressants and scent blockers before their departure, making his omega traits untraceable by the infected. He supposed he should be grateful that they were trying to slaughter him instead of attempting to mount him. Small victories.
Worst of all, they just wouldn't stay down. He had just unloaded an entire clip into one before it finally hit the ground. He and Jill had gotten separated as two infected were locked onto him, taking the last-second decision to lead them away. He clicked on the release, flinging the empty magazine to the ground as he jerked in the next one from his utility belt. Within a blink, the alpha snarled, taking a leap at him. He raised his gun, aiming down the barrel-
A wheezing shot reached his ears, the infected alpha's brain splitting from the burst of the force. A clean headshot, in and out.
He raised his hand to his ear, tapping into his comms. "This is Alpha, reporting three blocks from the church. Does anyone have me in their sights?"
"This is Bravo One. Negative, are you in need of back-up, Captain?"
"I got it, focus on the mission. Alpha out."
A sniper, the work of an outsider, then. Chris looked up, his eyes following the trajectory of the bullet, but he could hardly tell where it came from. The woods surrounding the rural town were densely situated. He only hoped they were friendly.
As fate would have it, he ran into the outsider only fifteen minutes later when Chris had miscalculated, a careless mistake as he thought that the fallen infected by his feet was dead. He was too preoccupied by the enemy before him to notice the twitching body, a claw shooting out into a vice grip around his ankle, toppling him to the ground. His gun went off, the shots spraying the wall. He rolled to his back, feeling those sharpened claws attempting to tear through his shin-
Five swift, precise shots to the back of the skull rendered the infected to stillness, his face twisting at the stench of brain matter scattered over his pants.
"This is the second time today. Careful, Chris, you might start making me think you want my help. Not that I'm complaining. It's not every day that I can brag about coming to the rescue of the Chris Redfield."
"Leon?" He said incredulously as his partner walked up to him. Leon sized him up, those eyes thoroughly scanning him from head to toe for any sign of injuries.
"Are you hurt?" Leon asked with a softened voice, a sacred gesture to be witnessed only by their eyes, a quiet breath of concern.
"I'm fine." Chris accepted the offered hand. Once he was pulled to his feet, Leon was nimble in letting his hand roam, sliding up his arm and working down his torso, a warm palm coming to settle on his waist just above his hip.
He flushed but didn't have it in him to shove Leon away. Instead, with uncharacteristic unprofessionalism, Chris found himself leaning into the touch. The crispness of Leon's familiar scent was almost enough to make him forget about the hell around them.
"What are you doing here?"
"My superiors wanted this situation contained and kept under wraps. It wouldn't look too good on their image if irrational fear of alphas suddenly going feral spread around the country. Not when Congress is full of them."
"Of course," he replied gruffly.
After a few prolonged seconds, Leon pulled away, taking a cautionery scope at the surrounding area. "What's the sitrep on our progress?"
Chris dove headfirst into the details of the virus's behavioral patterns. Leon's share of intel shed light on the triggerman behind this. One Ryan Bradford, a US senator who was involved in an under-the-counter affiliation with an organization called The Connections. By spotting the leak in their defenses, they were able to pinpoint the potential culprit.
Then, he was notified that Delta had secured a sample and it was on route to HQ. It was the waiting game from that point forward. During the next hour, the situation was working in their favor. The town had faced detrimental casualties, but they had worked fast and efficiently in evacuating the remaining civilians, with the given orders to be put under a separate quarantine zone.
He became complacent. It was the only way to justify what happened. Again, his best efforts always begot failure, and this time, his mistakes were something they would not be returning from.
They were ambushed, caught off guard. When Leon went down, Chris' vision flashed red. He wrestled the infected away, gunning it down until his clip was empty, pulling on the trigger again and again with an insistent clicking. His ears rang with the high-pitched noise of his declining sanity, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. Sweat rolled down his brow, obstructing his vision. Through the haze of rising, white-hot panic, Leon's muffled voice reached out to him.
"Chris, look at me."
If not for the sense of doom that threatened to choke him, he would be embarrassed for the way his body obeyed, his head snapping to where Leon pushed himself onto one knee on the ground. A chunk of flesh was bitten clean off his calf, the vicious teeth marks engraved into a bloody, pulsating mess. He could either stay clamped up and drown in fear, or he could do something. They were sitting ducks out here. He needed- he needed to get Leon somewhere sheltered enough to hold down the fort until Rebecca would be able to develop a vaccine. Now, everything was a race against time, and the clock was ticking.
"You need to-"
"I know." Chris interrputed, sounding half-crazed as he ran a hand over his head. "I fucking know. I'm workin' on it."
Leon fell quiet. There was nothing more to say now that would fix things. Forty seconds later, Chris was hauling Leon's arm over his shoulder and dragging his ass away from the streets. A few minutes later, they ended up barricading themselves in a draughty, expansive attic. Light oozed through the cracks of exposed wooden rafters. Most of the stored antiques were covered in dusty sheets, shoved in the far right corner. With a kick, he snapped the feeble ladder as it fell to the downstairs hallway with a resounding crack. Hopefully, they were relatively secure from external danger.
It wasn't nearly enough to contain the danger brewing inside.
He discarded that thought, shoving it down until it could barely be heard. Leon tore off a strip of fabric from his shirt and tied it around his calf. Chris began to furiously pace back and forth, his hands itching for a smoke or twenty right about now.
"Bravo, do you copy? Bravo, come in." The only sound that was received from his comlink was static. Intentional or not, something was interfering with the signal, which meant they were completely alone.
He could sense it in the air, then. The irregular fluctuations of Leon's scent. It felt unnatural; barbed and pungent, uncontrollable pheromones that would soon be overwhelming. The short, measured breaths now grew heavy and deep. With each wheezing exhale, a rumbling, building growl stirred in the back of Leon's throat. The infection was rapidly spreading. From his estimations, Leon had less than ten minutes before he was about to enter a full-blown rut, and less than twenty before his mind would succumb fully to the virus.
He could momentarily step out and leave Leon hidden away in the attic whilst he tried to intercept the jammed signal and come into contact with Jill and the rest of his team. As long as their comlink was being obstructed, there was no way of knowing at what stage the vaccine was- if there was one to begin with. However, the thought of abandoning Leon and subjecting him to the cruelty of such a fate alone, losing his sense of self, his mind chewed and devoured by the virus until he was nothing but a witless, savage beast-
Chris rejected that option altogether. It dawned upon him, then, what needed to be done. The gravity of what both of them were about to face gradually became clear. He would have to help Leon through it and try to keep him contained long enough until help arrived. It only further confirmed his suspicions when, only five minutes later, he felt a twinge inside his gut, a dreadful stirring of oncoming, painful cramps.
Chris' body was responding to Leon's induced rut, his omega having accepted the alpha as his mate. He was about to experience his first heat after 20 years.
"There's something I need to tell you." He started as he began taking off the heavy pieces from his body, starting with the straps that hugged his torso.
"What you need to do is leave." Leon ground out the words between clenched teeth. There was a glint of redness in his eyes. It looked like he was barely holding himself together. "You need to get as far away as possible, now. We don't have much time."
"That's alright. I decided I'm going to help you through it. By the looks of it, we'll be staying here for a while."
"Have you completely lost it? God dammit, Chris, you can't help me. It's not safe for you to stay with me."
He ignored Leon's vehement protest as he continued stubbornly. The last piece of the strap dropped to the wooden flooring, leaving him bare in his pants and shirt. "My decision is final. What, you don't think I can take you? Don't get too ahead of yourself, Kennedy. You're not that special."
"Chris," Leon rumbled with a poorly restrained rage. "All I can think about is sinking my teeth into your neck and ripping your head from your spine. My alpha won't stop until you're dead. Please… please, don't make me do this."
"You don't have to worry about that. You'll be too preoccupied with something else entirely, soon. Well, I better fucking hope you will. It'll be a hassle having to fight you under the influence." His heart panged at the wry confusion twisting Leon's features.
"What are you even talking about? You-" Leon blew out a harsh breath through his flared nostrils, sweat rolling down his temples. "I'm not arguing with you. Just this once, drop your martyr act and-"
"Leon," he said in a fragile yet firm tone. "I'm an omega."
The silence that followed was stifling. He watched closely as the frown deepened between Leon's brows, a myriad emotions flashing in his eyes.
"What?" Leon exclaimed, raising his head to meet Chris' eyes. "Christ, this isn't the time for fucking jokes-"
"You can probably smell it on me already. My heat."
That gave Leon a pause, his head tilting as he sniffed the air, taking the time to indulge and breathe in the elevated sweetness floating in the surrounding space between them. Chris could smell it on himself- it was nearly impossible not to. He was drowning in it, this foreign scent he hadn't sensed on himself since he was 17.
When the emotion in Leon's face began to morph with the realization, he cowardly averted his eyes, turning away. Be it anger, disappointment, or betrayal, he didn't want to witness any of it. He didn't want to see those emotions etched on Leon's face to be the last thing.
"You deserve an explanation, but I don't- I can't give you one. I am sorry. For all of it. For leading you on, for lying to you. For making you believe I was someone I'm not. Once we get out of here, you can-"
He went to turn, meaning to stop running away from it all, but he choked down on his words when he found Leon looming mere paces away. His shoulders were hunched, his arms lying limply at his sides. The dilation of his pupils entirely swallowed the blue of his irises. A bottomless pit, a terrifying sheen of emptiness.
The mutation had taken full effect. The alpha that stood before him was now more animal than man.
Chris' fingers twitched, hovering over his thigh, wanting to reach for a gun he had discarded only minutes ago. Perhaps it was foolish to disarm himself completely, but he didn't have it in him to harm Leon that way, even if it meant incapacitating him. As his eyes carefully followed the sluggish dragging of Leon's feet closer, he came to regret losing his knife in a close-quarters tussle with one of the infected leading him here. Leon barely had time to register what was said to him, thus uncertain whether the alpha before him regarded him as an omega mate or a threat.
When he eyed his handgun by his feet, Leon struck. There was no finesse, no sensible pattern behind his attacks. He acted entirely on instinct. Chris ducked an oncoming swipe, preparing to raise his arms in a defensive stance. Before he even had the time to start hatching up a plan on how to handle this delicate situation without getting both of them killed, an immovable weight crashed against him, wrestling him to the floor.
They have had their fair share of sparring over the years. In the end, their skills always went on par with each other. They had their individual strengths and weaknesses; Leon's fighting style was versatile, relying on lethal precision and agility, using a mix of different martial arts, while he was more of a powerhouse, a heavy-hitter trained extensively in CQC. Most of his life, Chris had grown used to being the bigger man, even among other alphas. For someone of his big stature, having recently hit 220lbs, it was easy to pass as an alpha. When it came to pure, brute strength, he had them all beat.
A paralyzing fear was instilled into him, then, when he was slammed flat on his back, the familiar weight of Leon settling on top of him, yet he could not budge an inch. A man weighing nearly 50lbs less than him. Chris was powerless. He bucked his hips, aiming to jab a punch into the solar plexus. Within a flash, his arms were captured in a brutal grip.
All of the futile struggle slammed up against the unnatural rigidness of his body, the blood in his veins freezing as razor-sharp canines clamped around his throat with a threatening pressure. The keen teeth were dangerously close to the glands over the slope where neck met shoulder, but they did not break skin, stilling in that position. For the first time, a fight-or-flight response seized his mind. His own rationale was briskly waning. That was when instinct took over, his omega yielding in an attempt to pacify the incensed alpha. He went limp, his body producing a sickening amount of pheromones, a savory scent indicating his submission.
"C'mon, Leon," he rasped with a hopeless wish, praying to whatever entity was out there that Leon was not entirely gone, praying he could sense that Chris posed no real threat.
Despite being completely out of his depth, it seemed like his body never forgot its baser instincts. The creeping heat was growing more difficult to ignore by the second; the air thinned, feeling irrationally hot even though his frame wracked with uncontrollable shivers. A growing heat in his flaming cheeks, a persistent throbbing behind his eyes.
His chest burned with white-hot, scorching humiliation, his pride shattering to pieces. It was then that Chris felt the first licks of wetness trickling from his fluttering entrance.
The world span as he was flipped over onto his front. Leon mounted him and buried his face against the back of his neck, the stubble on his chin scraping over the sensitive skin of his nape, rubbing and marking Chris with his scent. A low, satisfied rumbling came from deep within Leon's diaphragm as he pressed their bodies flush, hips grounding against his backside. His mouth felt dry, flinching at the heavy bugle prodding over the slope of his ass. It was too late to back out now. No matter how terrifying and clueless he was, he had made a decision, and he was going to stick by it. It was the least he could do.
Though it seemed like Leon's infected alpha was incapable of tackling the issue of clothing that separated them, his growls rising with frustration, clawed fingers finding his nape, scruffing him.
"Fuck," he gasped at the prickling pain, claws digging in, cutting through flesh. "Here, just- just let me-"
He didn't know how, but after a good few minutes of blindly fumbling with his right arm behind him since Leon was being extremely unhelpful by keeping him pinned and his movements limited, Chris managed to unzip Leon's jeans just enough. When he went to tug his own pants further down, a sudden epiphany struck his head through the haze. The goop of slick wouldn't be nearly enough. They didn't have the chance to be extensively intimate (he would always make lame excuses. Leon assumed he was merely being shy), but they had shared the occasional handjobs or blowjobs. He had seen what Leon was working with, and there was no way in Hell that stupid cock of his was going to fit.
Chris reached behind him, fingers skimming over the wetness, gathering as much as he could before he nervously prodded a finger against the tightness of his rim. Maybe if he could work himself open up to three fingers before he was completely taken by the heat, then maybe it would be enough.
Fingers snatched his wrist, wrenching his arm back. Clumsily, desperately, Leon thrust his hips forward, the tip of his dick prodding against his hole. He panted, jolting at the burning sensation. It slipped, sliding over the swell of his ass.
"No, wait, it won't f-"
His protests fell on deaf ears. Leon reared back, slamming forward with another thrust. His body forcefully yielded, struggling to accommodate the intrusion. A strangled sound was punched out of his throat as the cockhead popped through his ring of muscle. It plowed and shoving its way into him, a searing heat, feeling as if he's being split open. And Leon was no longer in a state to care further than to satiate the yawning chasm of hunger inside him; he was no longer controlled by his own mind, succumbed to the wriggling parasite.
He was given no warning, no time for preparation, as Leon set up a vicious, animalistic pace. It was frantic, brutal in the way he slammed forward, fucking into him from behind. It hurt. The bastard fucking hurt, and yet it felt good, having him all fucked up as his own dick stirred and fattened, soon sitting trapped and heavy between his belly and the floor. It was torture, sickening and intoxicating, maddening in a way he had never experienced before. His eyes stung with forming tears, his vision blurring. Chris ground his forehead against the wooden flooring and splinters, a pathetic anchor as he fought to keep it together, to keep from breaking.
And it was too soon, too fucking soon that he could feel a forming lump at the base of Leon's cock, a forming knot that swelled and nudged against his already raw and tender entrance. Leon's grunting breaths behind him shortened, growing shallow. He couldn't take any more, he couldn't, he couldn't, but God- God, Leon was somehow forcing his knot through, his hole tearing as it slipped through.
The knot popped, gushing inside him and filling him up to the brim. It just wouldn't stop. Leon was flooding his insides, a mess of slick and cum and hints of blood, sitting warm and heavy, his belly aching.
He was given no more than a few seconds of reprieve, clawed fingers tightening on his hips, as Leon began to shift inside him, picking up the pace and fucking him despite the swollen knot that was supposed to lock them together, drilling it inside of him again and again.
Seconds turned into minutes and into hours. After a while, Chris lost all concept of time. His body was limp, manhandled and shoved forward with each harsh thrust.
He lost count of how many times Leon popped his knot inside him and kept fucking him through it, stopping for nothing. Chris was quickly driven to a point where nearly all coherence sizzled, his own cock lying spent and flaccid after each coaxed orgasm. His body trembled, choking down on pathetic, strangled moans. He drooled against the chipped wood as he drowned in torturous ecstasy, his heat-addled brain turned into mush.
Suddenly, he didn't care. He wanted Leon to stay inside him forever. He felt like he was dying. It wasn't nearly enough. Chris knew that somewhere deep down, in the rational part of his brain that was muzzled, this was the fallout of his own actions. It was nothing more than his own incompetence and carelessness. His own ignorance, and he was now facing the full effects of a violent heat because of the cycles missed over 20 years.
The pressure that built up in his belly was uncomfortably tight. He was so full, he simply couldn't take much more, yet somehow he whined in mourning when Leon's cum oozed around the edges where his cock was plugged in, trickling down his ass and the back of his thighs.
Leon's pace had begun to falter, pounding into him in hard, slow thrusts. The knot ground against his prostate, abusing the inflamed bundle of nerves until it was too much for his body to handle. With a muted sense of dread, Chris felt a twinge low in his belly, a growing strain in his bladder. He uselessly writhed in an attempt to lift the tension off him. In retaliation, Leon's alpha gnarled with irritation at his endeavor to flee, dragging him closer by the bloodied gashes on his hips, burying himself deeper.
He squirmed and shuddered, hot tears staining his cheeks when it all became too much, the last string of restraint snapping. Chris sobbed as he leaked, the front of his pants getting soaked with the warmth of the uncontrollable stream of his own piss.
Despite the distressed humiliation, the rumble that came from behind him seemed pleased, engulfed in the lapping waves of a stormy sea. Those razor-sharp canines found their way back to the slope of his neck, scraping a path along the sensitive skin.
Then, Leon was plunging his teeth into his swollen scent glands, breaking through and sinking into his flesh. His mouth fell open in a muted scream, eyes rolling back as the alpha's jaw locked in place.
His shoulder was on fire, lashes of shockwaves traveling throughout his entire body. The bite burrowed its roots into every nerve-ending in his system, hooks latching onto his mind and soul, consumed wholly by the presence of his alpha.
The mating bite was a sacred act, a most holy union between two souls, bound together as one. If he were still of sound mind, Chris would have thought that there was no other alpha he could ever see himself spending the rest of his life with other than Leon. Unfortunately, the overwhelming pain and exhaustion proved too much for him to keep holding on.
And as he slowly succumbed to the creeping darkness around the edges of his vision, his body surrendering, he thought he heard the quiet, raspy tone of Leon's voice ringing in his head with a wretched 'I'm sorry', a string of apologies that soon fell to deaf ears.