SAVEGUARD ⟼ leon s. kennedy

xlii. eyes on me

nsfw warning: it's gonna get a lil bit explicit, more than usual, so dni if you're a minor pls, in fact in general dni with any of this fic if u're not 18+ 😭

ｃｌｅｍｅｎｔｉｎｅ

"There is no way you can actually recite the entire script of Die Hard," I'm telling Leon as he browses through his DVD collection. "How do you even remember all of it?!"

Leon smiles and sits up straight, and takes a deep breath. His movements come easier to him now, and he does everything a bit more smoothly, and doesn't wince as much as he did when he was first discharged from the hospital. I can tell he hides a lot of the pain from me, but he does seem better.

It's been two days of me coming over and spending almost the entire day with him, as he cycles through the phases of the pain medication: drowsiness, forgetfulness, sleepiness, anxiety, and then grogginess as he comes down from the dose and the pain comes back. When he sleeps, I somehow end up tired and sleepy too, like my body clock is in tune to his, like my mind can only truly rest when he's around.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't need these days of rest. My body had been so on edge for so long, so tightly wound and overdosing on adrenaline when we were on that fucking ship, that it feels like my muscles have gone numb now, and sleeping is the only thing that helps to slowly replenish my energy.

He sleeps in odd positions, because most positions hurt his wounds and injuries, and I try to keep my distance from him, afraid of hurting him further, but every single time we've slept, he ends up waking me up, half-asleep himself, pulling me into him, the only sounds between us as he quietly groans shifting his position to accommodate me being close to him.

It's not sexual, but it's intimate, more intimate than anything I've ever felt or experienced, and every time it makes my heart beat embarrassingly loud, being so close to him, being trusted by him when he's in such a  vulnerable state.

When we're not asleep, and he's not as groggy, we pass the time either by watching our favourite films on rotation, or by talking, or by looking at the view, or by my favourite pastime—and I suspect Leon's too—making out.

Gentle and tender, but with an urgency, like we can't get enough of each other, like each kiss is a promise of how we'll treat each other once our bodies recover, once we find the right time, once the universe decides not to keep us apart any longer.

"We watched that movie over and over again when I was in the academy," he says, throwing a piece of popcorn in the air and catching it between his lips before he turns to look at me, smiling, and crunching it between his teeth. "It's kind of the only good memory I have left from being with my partners back then."

I throw another popcorn piece at him and he catches it easily, winking at me. My heart beats-beats-beats away at how effortlessly handsome he is, even with his face still a bit scuffed up. His eyes still shine, that gorgeous hue of clear blue skies. "The movie is like, over two hours, Leon."

"Put the movie on," Leon says, grinning widely. "I'll get every single line right."

"We need some stakes here," I say, getting up to put the DVD into the player. "What happens if you get a line wrong?"

Leon thinks about it for a second, his hand to his mouth. "I get a slap."

I scoff and dip down to sit next to him, bringing my knees up to my chest. "That would've been a good reply had you not already established you like that."

"Yeah, but I'm injured or whatever." He flexes his arm, slowly, but he manages to flex his forearm properly, his tricep bulging. I press my knees together and look away. "See?" He says. "I can't even flex that well. So I'm not gonna really enjoy getting slapped if I'm this injured."