Archive of Our Own

After a painful misunderstanding drives a wedge between him and Chris, Leon had returned to the R.P.D. feeling lost and out of place; only to find a second note waiting for him… this time signed by Albert Wesker and accompanied by his favourite coffee, and an invitation to dinner that fills Leon with hope. While Chris watches his own heart break, Leon spends the day distracted by happy fantasies of romance, convinced that tonight might be the beginning of something wonderful.

The morning had been suspiciously normal, and the afternoon fairly quiet. That should have been Leon’s first warning….

Leon sat at reception happily pretending to work while actually spending most of his energy wondering whether nice dinner restaurants had dress codes.

The front doors opened…. A man entered carrying a stack of papers nearly three inches thick. Leon immediately assumed maybe taxes were involved? Nobody carried that much paper unless taxes, lawyers, or deep personal grudges were involved.

“Good morning, sir,” Leon said brightly, “How can I help you today?”

The man dropped the stack onto the desk, and the papers hit with a loud ‘whump!!’ “I need to file a complaint.”

Leon nodded and reached for a form, “Okay.”

The man pointed dramatically at the stack, “Someone has been ringing my doorbell every morning and leaving photocopies of buttocks on my front porch.”

Leon stopped writing, “…What?” and more specifically, ‘the fuck?’

“For two weeks.”

“…What?”

The man began flipping through the papers, “I have evidence.”

“Oh no.”

“I’ve organized them chronologically.”

“Oh no.”

The man enthusiastically started sorting through the stack, “See, at first I thought it was the same buttocks every day—”

Leon immediately raised both hands, “Sir.”

“But then I noticed subtle differences—”

“Sir.”

“Which suggests multiple buttocks.”

“Sir.”

The man paused, Leon stared at him…. The man stared back. Slowly, Leon pushed the stack of papers farther away from himself without actually touching them.

“Please stop showing me the… butts.”

The man looked offended, “You’re law enforcement!!”

“I am …reception,” the distinction felt important, and right now he was very thankful for it.

The man sighed heavily and selected a random page from the stack, but before Leon could stop him, the paper was held up proudly for inspection, Leon saw approximately half a second of blurry monochrome rear end… and that was half a second too much, he immediately looked toward the ceiling. The ceiling offered no assistance, nothing in the skylights. “Okay!” Leon announced loudly, “I’ve seen enough.”

“You barely looked.”

“I looked the exact correct amount.”

The man lowered the paper. Leon rubbed his forehead. Somewhere upstairs, officers were investigating murders and meanwhile, he was apparently the lead investigator on the Mystery Butt Case.

“What outcome are you hoping for?” Leon asked carefully.

“I want it stopped.”

Reasonable….

“I want justice.”

Less reasonable?….

“I want to know why they’re using a copier.”

Leon nodded, maybe he did too. Better than photos, he guesses.

The man leaned closer, “And I want to know how they keep getting access to so many buttocks.”

Leon didn’t have an answer for that, he wasn’t sure anyone did… After a long silence, he stood, “You know what?”

“What?”

“I’m going to have an officer speak with you.”

The man’s face brightened, and he looked like someone who might not report Leon to the chief, “Excellent.”

Leon gestured toward the waiting area, “Right over there.”

The man gathered his enormous stack of evidence and shuffled toward the chairs.

Leon watched him go and immediately picked up the nearest phone, “Hey,” he said when another department answered, “I have a guy who needs to file a complaint.”

A pause… ‘another kitty, Kennedy?’ he could almost hear, “About what?”

Leon looked toward the waiting area. The man was now organizing the photocopies by apparent buttock shape.

Leon closed his eyes, “…You know what?” he said, “Just send somebody down here. I’m not explaining it… You know how my calls go,” he said with a reluctant sigh, but it was true, “Uh… and a male officer.”

“What?”

“Trust me.”

The next thirty minutes were blessedly quiet…. No naked moose…. No photocopied ….buttocks. No one demanding the arrest of local wildlife… Just peace.

Leon had settled comfortably behind reception with a notepad, a cup of coffee, and a highly important police task.

Namely: Looking up date ideas.

Not because he needed them, it was planned out, but he needed his own thoughts and what to do ideas because he was bad at winging things, and planning anything seemed just… a little professionally curious. Purely academic to learn how to do date night right. He was currently reading an article titled ‘Ten Romantic Restaurant Behaviours That Make You Seem Sophisticated’ and learning that apparently knowing which fork to use was considered attractive. Leon immediately decided society had gone too far. Or maybe he hadn’t gone with it.

The front doors opened, he glanced up automatically. Then blinked. The man approaching the desk was a young Asian man, around his age, maybe a little older, dressed neatly in a red work shirt with some company logo, with dark hair and an easy smile…. Objectively very, very attractive. The sort of person Leon absolutely would have noticed under normal circumstances. Today, however, his brain was running entirely on dinner reservations and Albert Wesker.

The civilian stopped at the desk. Leon realized he’d been staring, “Huh?”

The man waited politely.

Leon immediately sat up straighter, “Oh. Oh! Sorry. Hi.”

Excellent start.

The man looked amused, “Uh, I have a delivery.”

“Huh?” A second time. Wonderful.

The man pointed toward something sitting beside his leg, “…Can I leave it here?”

Leon followed his gesture downward, hadn’t even noticed he came in with anything, then promptly forgot every thought he had ever possessed because sitting on the floor was an enormous arrangement of roses.

Not just “oh hey, flowers,” but a floral event. A botanical emergency. The vase alone looked expensive enough to pay three months of Leon’s rent…. And the roses… They were stunning.

Dark red. So dark they almost appeared black beneath the fluorescent lights. Elegant Dramatic.

Leon stared.

The delivery man stared at Leon staring.

Finally, Leon spoke up, “…Are those real?”

“Sure are.”

Leon looked closer, “That’s an unreasonable amount of flower.”

“I just drive the truck,” the man lifted the arrangement onto the desk with visible effort.

A small envelope sat tucked between the roses. Leon’s name was written across the front and his heart immediately began trying to escape through his throat.

“Ooh…” the delivery man smiled knowingly.

“Oh,” Leon picked up the card, his hands felt strangely hot as he opened it carefully. Inside, written in elegant, unmistakable handwriting:

‘For: Leon Kennedy…’ and beneath it: ‘ From: Albert Wesker.’

That was it….

No lengthy message. No explanation. Just his name and Wesker’s. Like everyone involved already knew exactly what this meant.

Leon could actually feel his face heating, “Oh my God.”

The delivery man laughed, “Good reaction?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“It looks pretty good from here.”

Leon looked back at the flowers, then at the card, then back at the flowers again. They looked absurd sitting on the reception desk, like they’d been stolen from some billionaire’s wedding and dropped directly into an old washed up police station.

“These are, they’re really for me?”

The delivery man glanced at the card, “Unless you’re a different Leon Kennedy?”

Leon looked around the lobby… Just in case. There was no other Leon Kennedy. His smile arrived before he could stop it.

The delivery man immediately noticed, “Oh yeah.”

“What?”

“You’ve got it bad. Or someone’s got it bad for you, it seems, huh?”

Leon laughed despite himself, “No, I don’t think so...”

The delivery man pointed toward the flowers, and the flowers pointed toward reality.

Leon lost the argument immediately.

For the rest of the afternoon, every single person entering the station was forced to walk past the enormous arrangement of nearly-black roses sitting proudly on reception like physical evidence that somebody was being courted in the most dramatic way possible.

For the first few minutes, Leon convinced himself he was imagining it. One officer happened to walk through the lobby. Then a records clerk needed something from upstairs. Then a dispatcher or two, then a third and fourth wandered through carrying a folder she absolutely could have delivered electronically. None of it seemed particularly strange on its own.

Then another person came through.

…And another.

…And another.

By the time twenty minutes had passed, the pattern had become impossible to ignore. They were filtering down from upstairs too.

Leon sat behind the reception desk, staring suspiciously over the top of his computer monitor as yet another employee found an excuse to pass through the lobby. It wasn’t that the station was particularly busy. If anything, the afternoon had been unusually quiet. Yet somehow every officer, clerk, secretary, janitor, volunteer, and civilian employee in the building seemed to have developed urgent business within eyesight of his desk.

Leon wasn’t especially observant on the best of days. Half the time people had entire arguments in the lobby and he barely registered them until someone started yelling, but even he could tell something strange was suddenly happening.

The problem was obvious.

The flowers.

The enormous arrangement of nearly-black roses dominated the reception area like a piece of expensive modern art. They were impossible to miss. The dark blooms rose very dramatically from their polished black vase, transforming the humble police desk into something that looked better suited for a luxury hotel than a municipal building.

Every person who walked by looked at them…. Then at Leon.

Then back at the flowers.

Then at Leon again sometimes with a little whistle, too.

Leon found himself growing steadily redder with each passing minute. A patrol officer slowed as he passed and whistled softly, the fifth person to do so, “Wow.”

Leon looked up and the officer pointed at the arrangement.

“Those are bigger than my first car.”

Leon laughed awkwardly, “I don’t think that’s true.”

“It absolutely is!” The officer lingered for another moment, clearly hoping for details, before wandering off when Leon refused to volunteer any.

The next visitor was less subtle.

A woman from records stopped directly in front of the desk and examined the roses with the seriousness of a detective studying evidence, “Those real?”

“Yes.”

She nodded thoughtfully, “Someone’s in trouble.”

Leon blinked.

“What?”

“Flowers that expensive usually mean somebody screwed up.”

“I don’t think that’s what happened.”

The woman shrugged, “Well, if they murder somebody later, we’ll know where to start.”

Then she walked away, leaving Leon staring after her in confusion.

As the afternoon wore on, the comments became increasingly creative. One officer asked if a funeral had been scheduled in the lobby. Another asked if Leon had secretly become a movie star. A third wanted to know whether rich people dated differently than everyone else and if those flowers were normal behaviour… was Wesker loaded? Leon had absolutely no answers for any of them. The attention should have embarrassed him, and actually it did embarrass him, but beneath the embarrassment sat something soft and giddy. Every time he glanced at the card tucked between the roses, his stomach fluttered pleasantly. No one had ever sent him flowers before. The bouquet felt absurd and extravagant and completely unnecessary, which somehow made it even more meaningful.

Eventually, Leon caught himself smiling down at the arrangement for the hundredth time and quickly looked away before anyone noticed.

Unfortunately, half the station seemed dedicated to noticing everything today.

From somewhere near the hallway, someone called, “He’s smiling at the flowers again!” Several people laughed.

Leon immediately buried his face in a report and pretended he had suddenly become extremely interested in police paperwork. No one believed him for a second.

By the time he got up and decided to go to Wesker’s office, and when he finally reached the second floor, he was quietly regretting several life choices… Namely, not taking the elevator.

The stairs hadn’t seemed that bad from the bottom. Halfway up, however, his knees had begun filing formal complaints with management. By the time he reached the landing, he was breathing noticeably harder and moving with the determined stubbornness of a man who had committed to a bad decision and intended to see it through… Still, he’d made it. Eventually. Sort of… huffing and gasping for breath and leaning his entire weight against the old statue at the top. Leon adjusted his uniform, gathered what remained of his dignity, and waddled down the hallway toward the S.T.A.R.S. office.

The door was open.

He paused in the doorway for a second, catching his breath again before stepping inside.

Several heads looked up immediately.

The first to notice him was Jill Valentine, her face brightened, “Leon!” she called, “What brings you up here?”

Before Leon could answer, a voice came from the back of the room…

“A flatbed truck, probably.”

The room went silent. Not shocked silent. The kind of silence that happened when everyone immediately understood the joke and wished they hadn’t.

Albert Wesker didn’t even look up from the paperwork he was reading, he simply turned another page.

Leon blinked, then laughed awkwardly.

A few people winced, because Leon clearly hadn’t gotten it.

“Oh,” he said with a small chuckle, “Yeah, these stairs are brutal.”

Nobody laughed.

That somehow made Leon laugh a second time, softer and more uncertain.

The silence only grew worse.

From across the room, Chris Redfield looked like he wanted to throw a desk through a wall. Leon, blissfully unaware of the emotional minefield he’d just wandered into, pointed vaguely back toward the hallway.

“I actually came up because…” his face brightened immediately, his smile dazzling and eyes beaming, “I got flowers downstairs.”

The entire office changed. Several people suddenly became interested.

Jill’s eyebrows lifted, “Oh?”

Leon nodded, a little shy, a little excited. The smile that followed was impossible to hide, “They’re really nice. I mean, they’re incredible.”

That smile alone was enough to make Chris’s stomach drop.

Leon looked down briefly before glancing back up, “They kind of took over the whole reception desk.”

Jill exchanged a quick look with Claire.

“Oh no,” Claire said, “How big are we talking?”

Leon spread his hands, then spread them farther apart, then a little farther.

The room collectively groaned.

“That big?” Jill asked.

“They’re huge,” his smile widened, “They’re beautiful.”

Across the room, Chris’s teeth clamped into a pencil, because Leon wasn’t just happy, he was glowing. The kind of glow Chris hadn’t managed to put there despite a year of trying.

The kind that came from love.

The kind that made everything hurt worse.

Meanwhile, Wesker finally looked up from his paperwork, only briefly, only long enough to watch Leon talking, and for a split second, the faintest trace of satisfaction crossed his face, it vanished almost immediately, but Chris still saw it, and the glare he turned toward Wesker afterward could probably have melted steel.

Leon felt his face growing warmer by the second, and it wasn’t from climbing the stairs anymore. His cheeks were pink now for an entirely different reason, “Well,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “I thought I’d just run up here and thank a certain someone…” the smile that followed was soft, dreamy, like his voice was.

The kind of smile that made half the room immediately realize Leon was in far deeper than he understood.

Across the office, Wesker scoffed, “That’ll be the day when you run anywhere.”

A few people visibly winced.

Leon didn’t. In fact, Leon barely seemed to hear him, his attention had already wandered elsewhere.

Claire exchanged a look with Jill, not a subtle one but a long-suffering look. The sort of look shared between people watching a friend walk directly toward a cliff while happily discussing the scenery.

Across the room, Chris’s expression darkened.

Then, suddenly— ‘Bang!’ his fist hit the desk hard enough to rattle several nearby computers. The sound cracked through the office.

Leon jumped, his shoulders jerking upward as he spun toward Chris, “Jesus!”

Everyone looked at him.

Chris immediately looked down at the paperwork in front of him; the picture of innocence. Nobody bought it.

Least of all Leon.

“Everything okay?” Leon asked.

“Fine!” Chris’s answer arrived a little too quickly, a little too tightly, too loud.

Leon blinked, then shrugged. If Chris wanted to punch furniture, that was really between Chris and the furniture. Before he could think about it any further, movement caught his attention; Wesker had stood. For a moment the room seemed to narrow, at least from Leon’s perspective. The captain set aside his paperwork and stepped out from behind his desk.

Confident.

Controlled.

Unhurried.

Albert Wesker crossed the room with the easy certainty of someone who expected the world to move around him rather than the other way around.

As for Leon… reality immediately stopped being particularly reliable.

The office blurred.

The chatter faded.

The fluorescent lights somehow softened into bokeh spots of lights. Leon watched Wesker approach and his heart promptly forgot how to behave.

Objectively speaking, Wesker was simply walking across a room.

To Leon, however, it felt like something out of a movie.

One of those impossibly romantic scenes where the handsome leading man appears in slow motion while an orchestra swells in the background. The sort of scene normal people rolled their eyes at.

The sort of scene Leon had secretly adored since he was sixteen.

Wesker seemed taller somehow? Fancier? Sharper dressed and so very perfectly put together.

His uniform immaculate.

His posture flawless.

His expression cool and unreadable in a way Leon found devastatingly attractive.

Every step seemed deliberate.

Effortless.

Elegant.

Leon felt ridiculous…. completely ridiculous, yet he couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop thinking that Wesker looked exactly like the sort of man who belonged in expensive restaurants and black-tie galas and every fantasy Leon had ever quietly carried around with him. By the time Wesker stopped in front of him, Leon was fairly certain he’d forgotten how conversations worked.

Behind them, Claire lowered her face into her hands. Jill stared at the ceiling. Chris looked like he was moments away from being arrested for something.

Leon noticed none of it, because standing directly in front of him was the man who had sent him flowers, and at that moment, that felt like the most important thing in the world, and he felt almost lightheaded as Wesker stopped in front of him. Like that wasn’t meant to happen to someone like him.

The entire walk over had seemed impossibly cinematic in Leon’s head. The S.T.A.R.S. office, the desks, the paperwork, the people watching; it had all faded into the background. All he could focus on was the man standing in front of him. His heart was beating embarrassingly fast.

Leon smiled, still finding himself at a complete loss for words. For once in his life, there wasn’t a single joke, question, or awkward observation available to him… All he managed was: “You sent me flowers?”

Wesker let out a short, quiet chuckle, “Yes.”

The simple confirmation made Leon’s face grow even warmer, the flowers, his flowers, downstairs were absurd. Beautiful. Excessive. The sort of thing people only did in movies or novels, not that Leon was big on reading.

“What did I do to deserve flowers?” Leon asked softly.

For a moment, Wesker simply looked at him, then he smiled, it was faint, controlled. The kind of smile that never quite reached his eyes, “You look so much smarter than you are.”

The room went silent.

At least for everyone except Leon.

Leon blinked, then laughed nervously, “Oh? Thanks!”

Across the office, Claire physically lowered her head onto her desk. Jill shut her eyes. Chris made a sound somewhere between a cough and a strangled scream.

Leon, meanwhile, looked genuinely pleased.

Wesker studied him for another moment, then reached out and took Leon’s hands, the gesture was gentle, careful, tender. Leon immediately forgot how breathing worked. His chubby hands looked smaller in Wesker’s strong ones, power behind every twitch of bone and muscle. The contact was brief and perfectly appropriate from an outside perspective, but Leon could feel his pulse jumping wildly anyway.

Wesker’s expression softened by a fraction, “Leon,” the way he said his name made Leon’s stomach flutter, “You don’t need to earn flowers.”

Leon stared at him, confused.

Wesker continued calmly, “If I wish to send you flowers, I send flowers,”the words should have sounded arrogant, to Leon, they sounded romantic.

“You liked them?”

“I love them!” The answer came so quickly it surprised even him, but really he was just glad he hadn’t blurted out ‘I love you,’ instead.

For a second, something genuinely pleased crossed Wesker’s face, then it was gone, “Good.”

Leon couldn’t stop smiling; the flowers, the dinner, the devoted attention. All of it felt so unreal. Like something wonderful had finally happened to him after hoping and praying.

“But… Dinner is more than enough, really,” Leon said softly, and he meant it. The flowers alone felt extravagant. The note had lived in his pocket all afternoon. The attention, the anticipation, the simple fact that someone like Wesker wanted to spend an evening with him? It already felt like more than he knew what to do with.

Albert Wesker dismissed the objection immediately, “Just a prequel to tonight, my dear.”

The word hit Leon like a freight train.. ‘dear,’ like he was the pretty little sitcom wife in a black and white show. His face turned scarlet, heat rushed into his cheeks and ears as he looked down at the floor, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact with anyone in the room, he was dimly aware that there were other people present, looking at him, coworkers, maybe friends. Witnesses, really, but they all felt impossibly distant.

Wesker laughed softly, a low, amused sound, “What?”

Leon shook his head… Nothing coherent emerged.

Wesker reached up, his thumb settled beneath Leon’s chin, the gesture was light and gentle enough to just tilt Leon’s face upward again.

Leon’s breath caught.

“There you are…” The words were almost fond, “I can’t indulge a little with the man I’m interested in?”

For a moment Leon simply stared at him, his heart felt too large for his chest. Nobody had ever spoken to him like that before. Nobody had ever looked at him like he was something worth pursuing.mWorth impressing or choosing over all the other options in the universe. The feeling was overwhelming, beautiful and frightening in a way he couldn’t quite identify.

Across the room, Claire watched with growing concern, not because Leon looked unhappy. That was the problem. He looked ecstatic. Absolutely enchanted… who the hell was enchanted with Wesker of all people? It was like every insecurity he’d ever carried had suddenly found a temporary cure in someone else’s attention.

Meanwhile Wesker stood perfectly composed, watching the effect each word had with the calm focus of a man studying the results of an experiment. Leon didn’t see any of that; he only saw the handsome captain standing in front of him.

The flowers, dinner, a new nickname, the promise of tonight, and when he smiled, it was the sort of hopeful smile that made several people in the room quietly wish he would slow down before giving his heart away completely.

“I don’t think anyone has ever wanted to indulge me in anything,” Leon said it slowly, awkwardly, the words seemed to surprise even him once they were out in the open.

For a brief moment, the room became very quiet.

Not because it was romantic, but because it was sad enough to put his loneliness on display like that. There was an honesty to it that Leon didn’t seem to realize he was sharing. The admission hung there for a second before Wesker responded.

“Hm…” Wesker’s gaze traveled over him in a way that made several people in the room immediately uncomfortable.

Not because Leon noticed; because he didn’t. That was part of the problem.

“You’ve been indulging yourself quite a lot since you started here,”the words were delivered smoothly. Almost casually, then came the follow-up, “What have you been doing besides eating?” He chuckled and stepped closer, one hand briefly settling against Leon’s side.

The reaction around the room was immediate.

Claire physically winced.

Jill looked away.

A few of the other officers suddenly became fascinated by their paperwork.

Chris looked ready to put a hole through the nearest wall.

From the outside, it wasn’t affectionate teasing; it was a cutting remark disguised as one. The sort of comment that left the target wondering whether they were supposed to laugh or feel bad. Unfortunately, Leon was too overwhelmed by the attention itself to examine the words very closely.

His face was still red.

His heart was still racing.

Someone handsome was standing close to him, someone successful, someone confident, someone who had just sent him flowers. So instead of asking ‘what?’, Leon scrambled for an answer.

“Nothing,” he laughed nervously. Then, after a second, “…Just receptionist stuff.”

The collective cringe that moved through the room was visible.

Wesker hummed. A short laugh followed, not cruel, but not kind, either; simply amused, “You have such a unique way of misunderstanding things.”

Leon blinked, then smiled brightly anyway. A genuine smile, the kind that made the entire interaction harder to watch, because Leon seemed to hear affection where everyone else heard criticism. He seemed to find validation in comments that consistently left him smaller than before, and standing around the S.T.A.R.S. office, watching him glow with happiness while missing every sign.

Wesker regarded Leon for a moment, that same faintly amused expression lingering on his face, then, without warning, he stepped closer; his hand rose to Leon’s collar, fingers smoothing a fold in the fabric that Leon hadn’t even realized was there. The gesture was oddly domestic, a little precise, careful as though Wesker had simply decided Leon should look a certain way and was correcting the problem himself.

“There,” he said quietly.

Leon stopped breathing…. Or at least it felt that way. His pulse stumbled somewhere in his chest as he stared up at Wesker, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. Close enough to see the faint reflection in Wesker’s sunglasses. Close enough to catch the scent of expensive cologne beneath the ever-present smell of leather and coffee. Close enough that the entire office seemed to disappear.

For one ridiculous second, Leon’s imagination immediately betrayed him.

The world narrowed.

The conversation vanished.

Everything became impossibly slow.

The bokeh haze returned and somewhere in the back of his head, a voice whispered that this was exactly how scenes in romance movies started.

Across the room, Chris had the exact same thought. His stomach dropped. For a split second, he was absolutely convinced Wesker was about to kiss Leon.

The distance was right.

The moment was right.

Leon was looking up at him like he hung the moon.

Even Jill seemed to tense slightly.

Claire froze.

The entire room appeared to hold its breath.

Then Wesker simply finished straightening the collar…. Nothing more.

He brushed an invisible speck of lint from Leon’s shoulder and stepped back.

The spell broke instantly.

The office returned.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.

Someone shuffled paperwork.

A phone rang somewhere down the hall.

Leon stood there feeling both relieved and strangely disappointed without fully understanding why.

“There,” Wesker repeated, sounding satisfied with his work, “Much better.”

Leon’s face was bright red, “Oh…” A pause, cute, but still awkward, “Thanks.”

Wesker gave a small nod, as though tidying Leon up was the most natural thing in the world.

Meanwhile, Chris looked like he needed medical attention.

Leon, blissfully unaware of the collective emotional collapse happening around him, couldn’t stop smiling, because all he could think was that nobody had ever fussed over him before. Not like that. Not with such casual certainty, and in his mind, that tiny gesture felt almost as wonderful as the flowers downstairs.

“Oh!” The sound escaped Leon so suddenly that it startled even him.

Wesker had just finished adjusting his collar when Leon seemed to remember something important.

“What should I wear tonight?” he asked. The question tumbled out all at once, then more of it, “I mean—… i-if you still want to go out for dinner…” the nervousness underneath it was impossible to miss. Leon’s smile faltered slightly as he spoke, the excitement he’d been carrying all afternoon briefly giving way to uncertainty.

The office became very interested in not listening.

No one succeeded.

Wesker stared at him, then raised an eyebrow, “Have I given you the impression that I don’t want to go?”

Leon immediately looked down,“Well, no….” A pause, “But… if you needed an out.”

The answer was so earnest it bordered on painful. Across the room, Chris closed his eyes. He’d heard that one before, knew that awful habit Leon had of assuming he was the inconvenience in every situation. Assuming other people were merely being polite. Assuming they needed an escape route from him.

Wesker rolled his eyes, just enough to communicate exactly how ridiculous he found the idea, “I do not want an out,” his hand rose again, this time it settled against Leon’s cheek. The touch was light. Possessive in a way that would have been difficult for Leon to identify and impossible for everyone else to miss.

Leon froze.

Wesker tilted his face upward slightly, “I assure you of that.”

Leon’s heart practically stopped, the reassurance hit him with embarrassing force. The knot of uncertainty he’d been carrying all day seemed to unravel immediately.

“Oh…” His voice came out smaller than intended.

Wesker looked faintly amused, “Good.”

Leon smiled, a real smile, bright enough that it transformed his entire face. For a moment he looked years younger. Hopeful. Happy.

The sort of happy that made Claire’s heart ache. Leon was so obviously thrilled by the idea that someone wanted him. Not tolerated him. Not humoured him. Wanted him, and that desire for reassurance made every interaction hit twice as hard.

Wesker studied him for another second before speaking again, “As for what to wear.”

Leon immediately straightened. Attentive. Eager to look eager, like a student awaiting instruction.

Wesker’s mouth twitched, like even he was holding back an insult, “Something nice.”

Leon nodded seriously, “Okay.”

“Preferably clean. That fits.”

“Okay.”

“…And try not to look like you dressed in the dark.”

Leon’s laugh burst out immediately.

Meanwhile Chris stared at his desk with the thousand-yard gaze of a man watching his worst nightmare unfold in real time, and Leon remained blissfully unaware of all of it.

He was too busy thinking about dinner. Too busy imagining candlelight and fancy restaurants and possibilities. Too busy carrying a heart full of hope to notice how worried everyone else had become.

Leon didn’t even realize he was leaning closer. It happened naturally… Effortlessly, even, the way sunflowers turned toward sunlight. Wesker’s hand was still resting against his cheek, and somewhere between the reassurance, the flowers, and the promise of dinner, Leon had completely forgotten there was an entire room full of people watching.

He felt warm and safe. Like he could jump into his arms and stay there safe and secure away from anything else in the world, cuddled up close and happy, embarrassingly happy. The sort of happiness that made the world seem softer around the edges and less like it only ever rained in this city.

For one blissful moment, nothing existed except the attention being directed at him.

Then—

“Kennedy!!”

Leon nearly launched himself through the ceiling. The voice cracked through the office like a gunshot. Every head turned.

Standing in the doorway was Chief Irons, looking exactly like a man who had finally located the source of a recurring workplace problem.

Namely: Leon S. Kennedy.

The chief pointed directly at him.

“How did I know I’d find you up here slacking off?!”

Leon immediately stepped back so fast he almost lost his balance, but Wesker caught him by the arm, “I wasn’t slacking off!”

“You are literally standing around flirting during work hours.”

Leon turned bright red.

Several people in the room suddenly became very interested in their paperwork.

Chris looked down at his desk. Claire looked at the ceiling. Jill appeared moments away from beaming off the planet entirely.

“I came up here for—”

“I don’t care.”

Leon opened his mouth.

“I don’t want to hear about, or see you, making out with my officers.”

Closed it.

Opened it again.

The chief cut him off before a sound emerged, “Get back to your desk!”

“But—”

“Now!”

Leon wilted immediately. The transformation was remarkable. One second he had looked like the happiest man in the city. The next he looked like a scolded golden retriever, “Yes sir...”

Irons pointed toward the hallway, “Move!”

Leon obediently turned toward the door. Then stopped, looked back toward Wesker.

“Um…” A pause, “I’ll see you tonight?”

Half the room physically cringed.

Wesker looked entirely unbothered, “Unless the city collapses before dinner.”

Leon laughed, like that was a perfectly normal answer.

“Okay,” ‘don’t say I love you,’ he minded himself, then he started toward the door.

Irons immediately pointed again, “Faster, Kennedy!”

“I’m going!”

“Kennedy.”

“What?”

“Use the elevator.”

The room went quiet.

Leon blinked, “What?”

The chief sighed heavily, “You came up the stairs again, didn’t you?”

Leon hesitated… Which was answer enough.

Irons rubbed his forehead.

“For God’s sake,” then he pointed toward the elevator at the end of the hall.

A few snickers escaped around the office.

Leon groaned, “I forgot.”

“Your ass forgot an elevator exists?”

“I was excited!”

That only made the laughter worse.

Even Jill cracked a smile.

Irons looked ready to retire, “Go.”

Leon finally surrendered, “Okay, okay.” As he shuffled toward the hallway, he couldn’t resist one final glance over his shoulder.

Wesker was already watching him.

The sight immediately brought the smile back.

Somehow that made Chris look even more miserable than before.

The chief noticed, and looked between the two, then at the retreating Leon. He sighed the sigh of a man who had absolutely no desire to untangle whatever romantic disaster was currently forming inside his police station.

Unfortunately, he suspected he was going to have to anyway.