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“I don’t think I should be here.” He says, hands still curled around the steering wheel of Sherry’s car.
On the seat beside him, she is checking herself in the mirror, reapplying the pink lipgloss she’s plucked out of the glove compartment.
“Nonsense, they’ve invited you and besides you can’t keep dodging my family forever.”
She snaps the mirror shut and smiles at him, which is totally unfair, considering that Jake wanted to sulk for a bit longer. Instead he drops his hands from the wheel, cracking his knuckles absently.
“They offered to be polite, not because I’m such good company.” He complains, sighing wearily.
“You’ll get along fine, don’t worry so much about it.”
Sherry reaches out to touch his cheek and draws him forward for a quick peck. Then she zips up her white down jacket, looking at him expectantly. Jake lets his tongue dart quickly over his lips, now sticky with Sherry’s makeup, before he scrubs at the sparkly sheen of gloss to get rid of it, his face turning sour.
“You don’t like strawberry?” Sherry laughs, grabbing his face to push another kiss onto the tip of his nose.
He glares at her, when she falls back into her seat, but his mouth can’t help drawing into a lopsided grin.
“I like it just fine, though I’d rather not greet your family with lip gloss all over my face.”
He wipes the sleeve of his jacket across the sticky spot, hoping that the glitter won’t be everywhere for the rest of the night.
“What a shame, I think the colour suits you.”
She lifts her hand to rub her thumb at the corner of his mouth and Jake lets himself lean into the touch for a moment, then he decides to ignore his bad mood and finally opens the car door.
It’s New Year’s Eve and the first year in which they’ve decided to attend Claire’s celebration together. They’ve stayed with his mother for the Christmas holidays this time, having just come back a few days ago and the jet lag still sits in Jake's bones, which is probably why he feels so easily irritated today, having already cursed out the traffic on their way across the border. But him being here is important for Sherry, who’s eager to introduce him to the people she calls family, away from the doomsday scenario where they’ve first met, which is the only reason he’d agreed to this in the first place.
The nightmare that was the C-Virus outbreak had certainly not been the best place to break the ice, considering he had his gun pointed at Chris and was less than enthusiastic about having Leon S. Kennedy in the picture too. Though to be fair, he hadn’t exactly known Sherry and him would start dating, let alone that the two men would be an item in the future. Jake had always thought his family history was complicated but with Sherry, he’d really been in for a surprise.
She tended to do that to him, keeping him on his toes and revealing the soft parts of himself that were still somewhere under the hardened shell he’d constructed for himself. It was one of the reasons why he was so madly in love with her, apart from getting his ass saved on more than one occasion.
Sherry rings the bell to the picturesque homestead without hesitation, entangling their hands, as they wait for someone to open. From the inside, conversation can be heard, someone laughing loudly, before the commotion starts to quiet down and a silhouette appears in the small window of the front door.
The wooden porch they’re standing on, belongs to a small brick house, situated in the outskirts of a quiet town in Canada. Toronto isn’t far away either, though Sherry persuaded him to not book a hotel and stay in the guest room overnight. Usually, so she told him, Claire hosts the New Year’s celebration, though this time they’ve decided to relocate to Chris’ and Leon’s house instead. Jake takes a deep breath, when the front door finally swings open.
It’s Leon and Chris who greet them, wedged next to each other in the small hallway, smiling brightly at them. Once they realize they’re blocking the entrance, they step to the side, Leon hurriedly ushering them in, as he pushes the suitcases they brought towards Chris. It’s all a little hectic and uncoordinated, the four of them crowded in the hallway, as Sherry and him struggle out of their winter coats and kick off the boots, now soaked with rain and gravel. Leon takes their jackets from them, somehow fitting them over the pile already hanging on the hooks in the wall, before directing them towards the shoe rack, which is equally as chaotic.
When they finally get a breath in, between ridding themselves of their jackets and Leon doting on them more than necessary, they find themselves in a loose circle near a staircase leading upwards and a set of doors, where the hallway gets a little bit more spacious. It’s his first chance to really take in the unfamiliar environment, tracking the wood paneled wall with picture frames hanging from bent nails and the gray tiles already stained with mud.
“We’re glad you two could make it.” Chris breaks the momentary silence, offering his bear-like palm for Jake to shake.
To say that his and Chris’ relationship is complicated, would be an understatement, after all he’s the man who killed his father and even after learning about the circumstances of his death, Jake is still struggling to get over the resentment he has towards him. He doesn’t hate Chris per se, he just can’t bring himself to trust him, doesn’t think he’ll ever get around to actually liking him at all. His father might’ve been a dead-beat but that didn’t mean he’d never wished to meet him someday. But now this will remain a distant fantasy, the only thing left of his remaining family an unmarked grave he’ll never get to visit. When Jake reaches out to grip Chris’ hand in his own, he maybe puts a little more force into the handclasp than necessary.
“Thanks for having me.” He nods at Chris, who meets his eyes with a steadfast gaze.
It’s a truce then. The hard feelings put to the side for the day.
Then he turns towards Sherry, his smile broadening a little.
“Every time I see you, I swear you’re an inch taller.”
They don’t hesitate to hug, Chris lifting her into the air, as he squeezes Sherry against his chest. She wheezes a little, when he sets her down again but grins nonetheless.
“That’s probably because you started shrinking, old man.”
She quips, letting him ruffle her shaggy hair some more. Leon steps towards the pair to wrap her up in his arms too. He’s mumbling something into the crown of her head, that Jake doesn’t quite catch, clinging to her, like she’s the only person in the room. After they part, he takes another moment to pluck at the wayward blonde strands, to push them back into place, as his eyes go uncharacteristically soft. He’s only ever seen the soldier side of him, the professional agent who was working for the DSO and could command the room with his mere presence but never this.
Sherry had told him that Leon was like a father to her, though Jake had his doubts still, when it came to Leon’s side of the relationship. He hadn’t really participated in Sherry’s life until a few years ago, had been surprised to even see her in Lanshiang, let alone to learn later on that they'd gone missing for six months. Leon Kennedy had no clue what Sherry’s life had been like and no matter how much she wanted to believe it, Jake refused to let that man call himself her father. He didn’t know why, but he just had a bad feeling about Leon, afraid that he was hiding things that would inevitably put Sherry in harm’s way and he wasn’t about to let that happen.
Observing their interaction through slitted eyes, it’s only then that Jake notices the get up, the both of them are in. Chris is wearing a pair of jeans and a green top, though he’s decided to pair that with the ugliest Hawaiian shirt, Jake has ever laid eyes upon. There’s an ombre look to it, that fades into a vibrant red, on which an unidentifiable dark pattern has been printed, that might depict roaring tigers, or might just be really weird flowers. While Leon on the other hand, is dressed in all black, making it nearly indistinguishable in the low light of the hall, though when he shuffles towards Jake to greet him, he gets a good look at the outfit he’s wearing.
It takes him aback for a second, though he tries not to let it show. Leon’s in a high necked dress, that goes just past his knees, over that he’s put a hooded jacket, which covers the sleeveless top-half, while his legs are wrapped in dark tights.
“Nice to meet you again Jake.” He greets him, holding out his right hand, nails painted black.
Leon’s eyes crinkle with the smile he gives him, nearly obscuring the winged eye-liner and with the blonde hair that falls into his aged face, he looks for one confusing moment, just a little bit like Sherry. It’s stupid, because he knows they’re not blood related and yet Jake can’t dismiss the similarity.
“Likewise.”
He takes Leon’s hand, shaking it with a tight grip, before the moment passes and they are led further into the house. He considers asking about it, taking into account that, until now, Leon struck him as the kind of guy to be very invested in his toxic masculinity shtick, if only to save face in front of his superiors. But frankly, he concludes, it isn’t any of his business and won’t make Leon any less of a dick anyway, no matter the answer.
The house is a quaint little place, warm inside with plenty of lamps illuminating the space in a soft glow. The mismatched furniture creates a patchwork image that stands contrary to the minimalist modernism he’s usually greeted with, easing a little of his apprehension to be here in the first place. Everything looks a little worn already, a little just beyond its best years, but at least it feels like someone is actually living in the place.
When Jake looks around to get a peek at the personal items the pair has filled their place with, he spots a few family photos, some of Claire and Chris, others of Sherry with Claire beside her, far between are photos of people he doesn’t recognize, or aged cuttings from newspaper articles, though what really confuses him, is that Leon seems to be almost entirely absent from the pictures. He briefly wonders why that might be, before dismissing the wild speculation for what it is. Apart from the mementos, he also spots a sizable collection of books and DvDs, all stuffed into the same shelf, that looks like it should’ve collapsed two days ago. He can’t make out too many of the titles, though it's enough to glean that whoever these belong to is really into film noir and classic literature.
After being brought into the living room a little bit of the pressure starts to dwindle, partially because Jake thinks conversing with Claire is pleasant and easy, no laden history connecting the two that could draw his poorly concealed distrust. He’s introduced to two other women later on, one who’s on the smaller side, with short brown hair and the other, who gives him a standoffish look, before nearly breaking his fingers in her death grip. He sits far away from Jill then, catching her more than once, as she flicks her curious gaze between him and Chris and somehow strikes up conversation with Rebecca, who gives him the hunch that she is more intelligent than she lets on, in their meaningless small talk.
Every once in a while, when there’s a lull in conversation, Jake is drawn back to the rest of the room, where he watches Sherry pressed between him and Claire, leaning into the woman, who has kept her safe during Raccoon City and talking to her about anything and everything. Compared to that, Leon is relatively quiet, leaning back in the loveseat with his partner, head pillowed on Chris’ shoulder, seemingly content in watching for the time being. The picture they make is contradictory to everything Jake knows about him, he’s quiet and reserved, almost awkward outside of the field, nothing like the man he snapped at years ago in China. He always expected Leon to be the cold and absent father that he imagined his own was, but in a private setting, there’s little left of the imposing man he’s come to know, if anything, Leon mostly just looks tired.
It’s a convincing act, at most, because if Leon really was as good as everyone believed him to be, then why had he never been around in all that time Sherry spent under the US government’s thumb? He doesn’t buy it.
“I totally forgot to ask what happened to your leg.”
The string of conversation jerks Jake out of his thoughts, tearing his piercing gaze away from the couple, to follow Sherry’s hand gesture at the thick cast that wraps around Claire’s left shin. He had avoided posing the question, not feeling like it was his place to do so, though it did peak his interest.
“Oh, that old thing,” She laughs. “It was just an accident at work. Nothing to worry about.”
Except, none of the people here were working normal office jobs, where the worst thing that could happen would be a nasty paper cut. Jake threw Claire a doubting look, opening his mouth to disagree. He’s beat to it though, as Leon cuts in.
“You jumped out of a second floor window, I wouldn’t call that nothing to worry about.”
Leon has sat up straight again, his arms crossed in front of his chest, as he raises an eye-brow at Claire. She gasps dramatically, touching a hand to her chest and fixing Leon with an offended expression
“I cannot believe you would just rat me out like that!” She says, feigning shock.
“Imagine my surprise when I heard my sister’s business trip ended with her running off into a contamination zone.” Chris weighs in, leaning forward to settle a palm on Leon’s leg, halting the nervous bouncing that has creeped into the limb.
“You did what?”
Sherry looks Claire up and down now, searching for more injuries but coming up empty. Claire gently takes her hand away from the bottom seam of her jacket to hold it in her’s, turning back to her brother and Leon on the loveseat. Jake starts shuffling where he’s seated, uncomfortable with the sudden tension in the air.
“You guys make this sound worse than it was, I had to go in there to settle a feud.” She says humour and determination in her voice, though from across the room he can see Jill shake her head, one hand coming up to comb the bangs out of her eyes.
“I was there too Claire and it sounds appropriately bad for what it was.” Jill has leaned back in her armchair, her ankle poised on the top of her knee, as she tracks Claire for any sign of disagreement.
“Fine,”
Claire waves her hand dismissively, to which Jill just shakes her head, mumbling something about ‘incorrigible’, as she straightens the wrinkles out of her blue two-piece.
“But I’ll stand by it, I was the only one there who’d seen Downing enter and I wasn’t about to let him get away.”
“Yes, but–” Jill begins, before Chris talks over her, his voice having an edge to it, that speaks of the fact that he’s used to being in command.
“Guys, can we cut the work talk?”
He has one hand on Leon’s back now, while the other draws slow circles on his thigh. Beside him, Leon’s expression is strained, face tilted towards the cast on Claire’s leg, as a spark of guilt crosses his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, to Chris’ request, though it doesn’t take much, before the others steer the conversation away from whatever they’ve been referencing.
“I said I was fine on my own, but Leon insisted I’d stay for a bit, ‘just until my leg healed some more’ , he said.” She whispers to Sherry, like she’s sharing a secret and both exchange knowing looks.
“If you don’t watch out, they’re gonna make you move in with them.” Sherry snickers behind her raised hand.
“God, no.”
Claire sticks her tongue out, eliciting another laugh from Sherry. Jake just watches her, her round cheeks soft with the upturn of her mouth, her varnished nails tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear. For a moment the nervousness leaves him, where he can pretend that it’s just the two of them. Jake rolls the sleeves of his black shirt up, noticing just now that the room has turned humid and warm.
“So, what’s your deal?”
Jill suddenly addresses him, bracing her elbows on her knees, as she fixes him with her piercing gaze. She cocks her head, like a cat looking at a rodent. He stares back, eyes narrowed into slits, trying to read her, though he gets the feeling, she’s trying to do the same.
“I’m in the mercenary business, if that is what you’ve wanted to know.” He responds carefully.
“You’re still doing that?” Leon cuts in from the side, abruptly alert.
“We can’t all be part of fancy government organizations now, can we?”
He hisses, fed up with being questioned like a schoolboy. He didn’t accompany Sherry to this party only to have his career choices judged, like they aren’t all in the same boat. At least in his line of work, he retains his freedom and isn’t the US of A’s fucking lapdog.
“No, you’re right. Wouldn’t recommend that either.” Leon placates, one corner of his mouth ticking upwards.
Jake doesn’t deign that with an answer, just huffs out a half-hearted chuckle and falls back into the couch cushions, crossing his arms. They return to easy small talk afterwards, as irritation keeps nagging at him, pissed off with being treated like a nuisance, just for accompanying his girlfriend to the family gathering he was explicitly invited to. Especially when half the people there have barely been family to Sherry in the first place, so who are they to judge him now?
“Speaking of fancy government employees,” Chris chimes in, turning towards Leon and skimming his fingertips over the side of his leg. “Has Helena told you, if she can make it for tomorrow?”
It’s fascinating, watching the shift in Leon’s shoulders, when he turns towards his partner, tension bleeding out of him that would’ve been unnoticeable, if Jake hadn’t been observing him with a keen eye.
“No, she said she’s staying with family this year.” He says in a low voice. “But maybe next week she can come over.”
More guilt crosses his features, Jake noting the momentary lapse, before it’s wiped away again, with the next touch of Chris’ hand on his cheek. Leon leans into the palm contentedly, tipping forward to kiss Chris on the lips.
At some point throughout the evening, someone starts playing music through a speaker positioned on the rickety bookshelf. It kinda looks like it’s handmade without a lot of knowledge in carpentry, Jake thinks to himself, after regarding it for a while. From somewhere, Rebecca procures a board game, setting it up between the snacks and drinks that have accumulated on the couch table and handing him a bunch of tokens, despite not having asked him if he wanted to play. He takes them anyway, if only to keep his mind off things, helping her sort the cards, as she leafs through the flyer, reading the rules.
Time trickles by like this, Leon, Chris, Claire and Jill loudly discussing their music preferences, while Sherry cheats her way through round after round of their board game, proclaiming that he’s just a sore loser, when he finally catches onto her and calls her out on it. Noone believes him, of course and he even sees Claire slide some pieces around on the board, after she’s meandered her way over to them again.
The discussion across the room eventually dies down and they can watch, as seats are moved closer to the walls. Claire hops up, as best she can, from her perch next to Sherry, to grab Jill by the hand. Undisturbed by the commotion Rebecca rolls her set of dice, sliding them over to him, after ending her turn. Some song from the eighties sounds through the room and he observes for a moment, as the two pairs set into motion.
Rebecca laughs to herself, glancing at Claire spinning Jill in wild circles, one hand leaned heavily on the crutch, as the both of them try not to stumble into each other. The game slowly comes to an end, when Rebecca decides to release Jill from her unfavourable partner and Claire returns to them, red cheeked and slightly out of breath. She plops down next to Sherry, stretching her arms over the backrest of the sofa, Jake’s knees bumping into the couch table, as the cushion wobbles.
“Ready for a dance?”
She asks, holding her hand out to Sherry, who is sitting cross legged next to him, sorting the pieces of their board game into the box. She shakes her head, smiling brightly.
“And be twirled around by you? No thank you, I’d rather keep my dinner inside.”
Claire grins at her cheekily, her eyes momentarily flitting to Jake, who is doing his best to sink into the cushions and make himself disappear. He is not going to shimmy around with a bunch of people he barely knows and mostly doesn’t like.
“Be glad we didn’t have anything to drink. One of us would’ve definitely had a concussion by the end of it.”
Claire wedges herself into the couch corner, digging in her skirt pocket for something and bringing her injured foot upwards to rest on Sherry’s lap, who gives a startled sound of protest at the sudden weight.
“I don’t think you’d need alcohol for that.” She sticks out her tongue at Claire but doesn’t move to push her outstretched leg off.
Another weird thing about being here, that Jake hadn’t failed to notice, was the lack of alcohol. Usually New Years was basically based around getting wasted and fiddling with explosives but the former hadn’t made an appearance yet. Not that Jake was complaining, it just struck him as strange, used to hanging around the military type, who enjoyed their drinks maybe a bit too much.
“Gotcha!”
Claire exclaimed victoriously after another moment of fumbling, pulling forth a red marker and promptly interrupting his train of thought. She held the pen towards Sherry, tapping it twice against the hard shell of plaster on her broken leg.
“Do you want to sign it?” She asks, holding eye contact first with Sherry, then with Jake too.
“Sure.” Sherry’s voice rings high with joy, plucking the pen from between Claires fingers and uncapping it with a loud plop.
Now that Jake gets a closer look at the cast, he can see that it has already been scribbled on. In bold black letters the word ‘CHRIS’ is spelled out, beneath that the horrible chicken scratch reads ‘and Leon’ , the rest of the cast, has some crude, multicoloured doodles scattered all over it. It’s not particularly high quality artistry but Jake can see in the way the lines are drawn that it’s been done with a lot of care. He spots the rough outline of a squirrel, shaded in bright red and has to suppress a smile. It’s so ugly it’s cute again.
Sherry writes her name in brandished cursive, adding a few more sketches of things on top of the cast, then she hands him the pen, which he takes more than just hesitantly. He’s not a touchy person in general, not particularly eager to be close to people he doesn’t really know. It serves him well in most circumstances, though his apprehension doesn’t seem very called for right now.
He’s had to relearn stuff like that, since Sherry’s been around, how to let anyone close to him again, so set on protecting himself, he’s only known how to push people away. It took him longer than he likes to admit, until he’d figured out that Sherry actually liked him, as more than just the guy, who had survived an apocalypse alongside her. But that had been years ago and so Jake puts his name down on the cast as well, and leaves a clumsy doodle of a flower on there too, just because he feels like it. He hands the pen back to Sherry. She caps it and tosses it towards Claire, who lifts her foot slightly to regard their work.
She whistles contentedly, the marker going back into the pocket of her red skirt, before she lowers her foot again to rest on Sherry’s thighs. Together they go back to people watching, Jill and Rebecca having found their rhythm and stepping in a loose circle to some soft rock tootling from the speaker. The other corner is still occupied by Chris and Leon, the latter of which goes a light pink, when Chris suddenly lifts him by the waist and spins them in a circle, before setting him onto his socked feet again. The hem of his dress ripples like water with the movement of the pair, flaring out once in a while, when the song picks up speed again.
Leon moves gracefully through the impromptu steps, nudging Chris back into the rhythm every once in a while, though no matter how messy the choreography gets, both of the men can’t seem to tear their eyes off each other, a permanent smile stuck on their faces, as they laugh through their missteps. Jake shouldn’t find it as mesmerizing as he does, though even he has to admit that Chris and Leon are perfectly in sync, gliding around each other, anticipating the other’s next move, like they’ve never done anything else.
“He looks better these days,"
Claire breathes wistfully, leaning close to Sherry, who has draped one of his arms around her shoulders.
"More happy.”
Jake follows their gaze to Leon, his blonde bangs streaked with gray, that curtains his cheekbone and hides half of his smiling face. He looks back to Sherry then, the platinum of her hair shimmering in the yellow light and her pink lips spread into a broad smile. It’s mortifying, every time, to realize how head over heels he is for her, and even more so, when he has to think about how trusting she still is, even after everything that’s happened. She is his polar opposite in that regard, less dull and resigned like him, less angry and full of heart-break. He knows that he’ll do anything to keep that part of her safe.
When the time creeps towards midnight, the dancing slowly eases out, Leon and Chris the last ones to scoot the seating arrangements back into place and rejoin the circle. They look relaxed, with the way they casually have their arms slung around the other, Chris’ hand leisurely stroking over the cut of Leon’s waist. Everyone seems a little bit tired out now, catching their breaths, or dosing where they sit, even though it’s not even midnight. Jake is just beginning to let the tension bleed out of his shoulders, when Leon raises his voice again.
“I nearly forgot, I still need to prepare the drinks.” He raises and ducks out of Chris’ embrace, the other mumbling discontentedly.
“Should I come with?” He asks, already pushing himself out of his seat on the couch, though Leon just shakes his head.
“No, it’s okay.” He says.
“I can help.” Jake cuts in, leaving Sherry to her conversation with Rebecca, still trapped under a now napping Claire.
Leon turns his head towards him, opening his mouth to disagree, though Jake has already made the decision for him. It feels good to stretch his legs a little, after so long of sitting around and he has the quiet hope that like this, he’ll be able to escape the busy room for longer than five minutes and maybe even skim off a bit of booze for himself, just to take the edge off. They wind their way between table edges and furniture crowded in the middle of the living room, making their escape into the kitchen at last.
It’s bigger than he’d expected, providing enough space for a kitchen island and a small dinner table. Stretching above the sink on the far end of the room is a broad window facing the backyard, almost empty except for a few young trees. Beyond the wooden fence he can see other rooftops peaking over it, barely visible in the black of night. He follows Leon through the room, who approaches a cupboard to the left.
“Do you mind placing the cups over there?” He asks, pointing towards the kitchen island, glassware clinking, as he pushes it aside.
“Sure.” Jake answers simply, taking the first set from Leon's deft hands.
They row the glass on the kitchen counter, before Leon moves on to rummage in the fridge, pulling out a net of limes, some bottles of soda and fresh mint stalks. He places all of it next to the sink, carefully laying out a wooden cutting board and a knife next to them, while Jake tarries around, waiting for new instructions.
“I’m sorry, it’ll only be virgin cocktails today.” He suddenly proclaims, back turned to him, as he fumbles with the net of limes.
Jake cocks his head curiously, trying to get a read on Leon, who has decided to start moving the dirty dishes into the sink and filling it with steaming water. Leon’s obviously trying to keep himself busy, so he doesn’t have to look at him.
“There something I should know about?” He prods, hoping to burst the bubble of anticipation that has suddenly ballooned up around them.
Leon takes a deep breath, as he shuts off the faucet, turning halfway back to him.
“I’m an alcoholic,” He says neutrally, though Jake finds himself holding his breath anyway.
“I’ve been dry for over a year now but not having anything around to begin with is the safest option still," There's a moment of hesitation, a flicker of eyes on him to glean his reaction. "Thus the limes.” He gestures to the set of ingredients lamely.
Jake doesn’t know why he’s telling him this, it’s absolutely not his business and if he thinks he’ll get sympathy from him, he must’ve really misjudged. He can’t stand it, the thought that this guy dumped Sherry off at some government facility the first chance he got, only to waste his time drinking himself to death. So what if he’s got it together now? Sherry still grew up without him and noone in that damn room seems to think much about it, acting like they’re all a happy fucking family.
“Let’s get the drinks ready.” He presses forth between clenched teeth, ignoring the way Leon’s expression shutters.
He hands him the mint, directing him to wash the bundle and divide the stalks between the cups equally. Jake obeys wordlessly, working through the recipe with Leon’s instructions, until they’re filling the glassware with the mixture they’ve prepared, carbon bubbles rising to the surface and fizzling loudly in the quiet of the room. It’s really just soda but next to him, Leon is focused hard, as he adds the lime slices to the edge of the cups.
“You don’t have to like me, you know?” He starts speaking again, fiddling with the last piece of fruit. “I get that we didn’t have the best start and Chris being around too, is probably not easy either.”
That makes Jake laugh, to say having dinner with his father’s murderer is ‘not easy’, is one hell of an understatement, but despite that he finds he’s more bothered by Leon, than he’s been by Chris. The latter might’ve killed the man who was supposed to be his father but Leon is the one who’s been acting just like him, full of empty promises, absent, working for the same people who had put Sherry and him into a facility to be experimented on.
“You’re funny.” He scoffs, stalking around the counter towards Leon. “You really think I’m buying your poor attempt at playing the happy family?”
The lines of Leon’s face harden, his blue eyes piercing him with an icy stare but Jake can’t be bothered, burning with anger so hot it’s singing his insides. How dare he? He thinks. How dare he not be ashamed of what he’s done?
“I don’t have to justify myself to you.”
He states false pride making him build himself up to his full height. Jake still gloweres down at him, tracking how Leon’s clutching onto the edge of the counter with one white knuckled fist. He gives an angry hiss, regarding Leon with a snide expression, as he steps even closer, the two of them now less than two feet apart. He can see the wrinkles marring his face, criss crossed by white scars that have faded with age.
“This isn’t about me. You ever think about how your shit might’ve affected Sherry?” He spits, watching how his eyes widen almost imperceptibly at the mention of her. “You’re acting like you’re some sort of saviour, when all you’ve ever done was get her into the same bullshit you’re in.”
Leon’s jaw flexes but he doesn’t move, stuck to his spot by the window, the stretch of garden visible behind him, grass frosted over from the cold. Jake wants it to feel good, as he throws the accusation at his feet, telling himself that the sharp sting in his gut is fury and not regret.
“I didn’t want her to be an agent, Simmons basically forced her into it.” He presses forth, his other hand moving to bunch the fabric of his dress into a tight grip.
His brow is furrowed into a deep frown, eyes sharp with discontent, while he tries to explain himself to Jake. Though he cannot find it in himself to be forgiving, still too upset to accept Leon pointing at some mysterious authority figure who was somehow solely responsible for their misery. It was never as simple as that, which meant he was either lying, or hiding something.
“Then tell me who put her there.” Jake snarls back, pushing his index finger accusingly into the man’s chest.
“I didn’t–”
He starts, voice suddenly wavering, as he bats his hand away from his chest. Jake doesn’t want to hear it though, doesn’t know what he’ll do if he has to listen to another lie.
“But you did.” He bares his teeth at him. “And then you pissed off to leave her to Simmons, meanwhile everyone’s acting like you’re a fucking hero.”
From up close, Leon doesn’t seem intimidating at all, nothing like the agent he’s had at least some respect left for. With the height difference between them, Jake can’t help but think that Leon only looks small, shrinking into himself with every word that Jake spits at him. Pathetic.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He breathes out, putting more distance between them, as he steps sideways towards the sink, his hand now holding on to the metal tub for dear life.
Jake has to take a careful step backwards too, when he realizes how close they’ve been standing, how his fists tremble under the force of his own grip. He’s angry, yes, he despises the kind of person Leon is, but Jake isn’t unnecessarily violent. He might hate that Leon’s a liar and a drunk and the government’s lapdog, but Sherry, despite everything, still loves him. It makes his skin crawl with unease but he’s still decent enough to respect that, he just doesn’t trust Leon to not keep repeating his mistakes.
“I know enough to be sure that Sherry deserves someone better than you.”
As soon as he’s said it, he can watch Leon’s face fall, a kind of loathing darkening his expression that remains undirected. It should probably feel vindictive, the way he stands up to the man who has hurt Sherry in ways he will never truly know about and make him regret it, to be finally saying:
‘You’re a bad father’
But somehow all of this makes him feel worse and he doesn’t get why it does.
“Jake, I’ve tried. I told Sherry, but I can’t do more than working on fixing it now.”
He’s taken on a patronizing tone of voice, the one people usually use when the other is being irrational, talking calmly, like Leon isn’t shaking with anger himself. That’s why he doesn’t believe him, no matter how much his conscience acts up to make him feel cruel about it.
“Bullshit.” He spits.
Leon takes a step forward, one hand pressed against his own chest, his face cold and unreadable.
“You can hate me all you want but in the end this is Sherry’s decision, neither me, nor you can change that.”
They stare at each other for a moment, the silence only disrupted by the ticking of the wall clock. A low simmering sense of guilt pulls at the corners of his mouth, as he regards Leon, wondering why he hadn’t raised his voice at him yet, why he isn’t fighting back like he expected him to.
“I will not let you hurt her.” Jake says resolutely, righting his stance and looking down at him.
Just now he notices the hair at Leon’s temples being almost completely white, how the shadows beneath his eyes seem to be permanently etched into the skin and he suddenly isn’t all too sure how much fight Leon still has left inside him. That maybe he might not be like his own father at all.
“Good. I won’t let you either.” He says.
And then the explosion goes off.
It’s the first New Year’s rocket, blowing up in a shower of red and gold sparkles right outside the kitchen window. Even Jake needs a second to recognize it as harmless, too used to the sound of gunfire but Leon with his back turned towards the light, has no chance of seeing the source of the noise. He flinches, hard, his eyes squeezing shut for a second, before they blow wide, as the second rocket goes off.
Leon whips around in that moment, the yellow and green fire shimmering in his pupils before it fizzles out once more. After that the noise picks up, more and more fireworks going off in the distance, filling the air with smoke and the echoes of explosions. Jake watches, as Leon startles again, fear blank on his face, as he stumbles backwards, bumping first into him, before wincing away to slam into the kitchen island. His hand goes wide to catch himself, hitting a few of the mocktails they’ve prepared and swiping them off the counter in a flurry. They shatter on the floor noisily and Leon gasps like someone has just hit him, flinching back from the shards that litter the floor.
“Leon?”
Jake steps between him and the mess, empty eyes staring through him at the spot regardless. The shift has happened so fast that Jake isn’t sure what is going on, why he is cringing in front of him after he speaks, or where the sudden panic is coming from, when there’s no danger in sight. There’s more banging outside, some of which loudly echoes through the night air and then, like he’s actually been hit by something, Leon goes down.
“Shit!” Jake yells, lunging forward.
His knees give out under him, falling towards the floor. Jake can just get his arms around him in time, slowly easing Leon onto the tiles, their fight from before almost entirely forgotten. One of Leon’s elbows snaps outward to impact his chest, shoving Jake backwards and away from where he is now pressing his back against the kitchen counter.
“Don’t touch me, please–” He pleads breathlessly, clamping one hand over his left shoulder and shivering through another rocket blowing up into blues and purples.
He looks like he’s in pain, or at least distress and Jake knows that something has gone horribly wrong. He has just gotten back to his feet, when the door to the kitchen suddenly springs open. Chris takes not a single second to assess the situation and leaps into action. He strides through the room, towards Leon, curled into himself in a heap on the floor, the dress tossed wildly around his legs.
Meanwhile Jake is frozen to the spot, watching in shock, as Chris kneels down in front of Leon, who is making little aborted sounds of panic, his breath coming quick and shallow. Just now does he see the pair of headphones that Chris has slung around his neck, while he holds another pair in his fist.
“Hey, Leon. Darling, come on, look at me.” He coaxes him, one outstretched hand barely touching Leon’s trembling shoulder, before the other winces, ducking his head.
“No, no, no.” He doesn’t seem to listen, fingers curling in his hair, as he shakes his head. “I can’t go back, I can’t–”
“You’re safe, Leon. No one’s coming to get you, I promise.”
Chris tries again to pull him out of the episode he’s stuck in, gently cupping Leon’s cheek in his broad palm and running his thumb over the pale skin. When Leon begins leaning into it, circling Chris’ wrist with his long fingers, he hums satisfied, slowly taking the abandoned headphones and gingerly pushing them over Leon’s ears.
The effect is instantaneous, Leon ceasing to tremble at every boom that echoes from outside. He blinks hard a few times, lifting his uncertain gaze upwards to fix on his kneeling partner, who is now swiping at the loose bangs, hanging in Leon’s face.
“Feel better?” He asks.
“Chris.” Leon gasps, still pressing his palm firmly against his shoulder. “I need to find Claire, I can’t leave until–”
There’s a second where Jake thinks he has snapped out of it again, Leon shaking his head like he’s trying to remember something, before his muscles tense up and he’s abruptly grabbing Chris by his shoulders, as if he’ll drown otherwise. The other though, doesn’t flinch at the way his nails dig into his muscle, just looks at him with concern on his face.
“Sherry.” He says. Dread washes over Jake. “Where’s Sherry?!”
His voice is so full of panic, that Jake has to take a step back, feeling like he isn’t supposed to see any of this. Leon is obviously not with them right now, stuck in some sort of memory that Jake should probably not be privy to.
“Sherry’s right here love, Jake can go and get her.” Chris tries to soothe Leon, throwing a quick look towards him that is enough to let him know what to do.
When Jake hurries back into the living room, the whole room fixes on him. He can still hear the rumbling bass of Chris’ voice behind him, mumbling something to his partner that he can’t quite understand.
“What is going on?” Claire asks, already standing, crutches in hand.
“It’s Leon, I think it had to do with the fireworks. Chris said to get Sherry.”
He explains it breathlessly, watching as his girlfriend goes from worried to anxious, scrambling to get off the sofa and squeezing past him without another word. Claire follows closely behind, while Jake turns to linger in the door frame, like he can’t quite decide whether or not he should stay with Sherry, or stay in the living room. He watches, as she kneels behind the kitchen island, shoulder to shoulder with Chris, who now has a hand on Leon’s back.
“Leon?” He hears her say, timid and scared.
“Sherry.” Leon sounds relieved for a moment, then his eyes screw shut and a choked off sob tears free from his throat.
“Are you okay?” She asks, her hands curling into his, as he struggles to get himself back under control.
After a moment, he draws her towards him, his arms roped with lithe muscle, wrapping tight around her, while he hides his face in the crown of her hair.
“I’m sorry.” He whispers, barely audible.
Claire has gotten down to their level now too, watching patiently, as Leon falls apart, holding Sherry in a tight embrace, like he’s scared to lose her. Something inside him stings, at the display, an aching hollow that Jake doesn’t want to examine too closely. Instead, he turns his head to regard the shards of glass on the floor, sticky with soda drying on their edges, mint and pieces of lime strewn about between them.
When they eventually shift out of the hug, Leon slumps into Chris’ chest, the headphones now slightly askew, though he doesn’t seem to notice. Sherry’s lower lip wobbles, as she watches him, eyes glazed over and drowning in a sea of disjointed memories.
“Where’s Piers?” He asks next, looking up at Chris. “You said he was going with you.”
Piers was the small guy with the sniper, who’d helped free Sherry and him from that underwater facility. Jake still remembers him very well, the way he’d been guarding Chris with something akin to devotion. He’d learned later on, he’d been the only one to not make it out alive. It’s weird to be caught in the aftermath of grief now, for a person Jake had felt no attachment to.
The calmness that up until this point surrounded Chris, turns abruptly into loaded silence. Claire hesitantly touches his shoulder, concern and sadness warring on her face. Chris shakes his head, teeth grinding onto each other and arms drawing Leon closer into his chest.
“This isn’t working.” He presses forth, shifting to heave Leon and himself up off the floor, the other leaning onto him heavily, as they get to their feet. “I’ll come back when he’s calmed down.”
Leon and Chris leave the kitchen, into the hallway and disappear up a flight of stairs. Meanwhile Claire and Sherry pull themselves up off the floor too, the former scrubbing a hand down her face, as she gives a weary sigh. The three of them, uncertain what to do with themselves, move silently to clean up the broken glass, dumping the shards in the trash and mopping up the sticky beverage, until the kitchen looks like nothing has happened. Between sweeping the floor and picking up soggy fruit off the tiles, Jake turns to Sherry, skimming his hand down her upper arm gently.
“Are you okay?” He asks.
She gives him a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes and nods.
“I’m fine, don’t worry.”
The evening progresses without the two, Claire explaining in a hushed tone what has come up, though none of the others act like this is out of the ordinary. It’s now past midnight, the commotion and excitement of the day having dampened, since they first arrived. The fireworks have died down too, only the occasional spark of light visible in the far distance.
Sherry wedges herself between Claire and him, hugging his arm close to her, worry and stress still marking her face, though she still insists that nothing is wrong. So instead of talking they try to distract themselves with a game of cards, Jill and Rebecca having come over from their respective seats to sit cross legged around the couch table to join them. It’s quaint and comfortable for the time being, distracting Jake enough from the gnawing sense of guilt, so that he doesn’t feel entirely like shit.
It takes a while, before Chris rejoins them, looking worse for wear, as he lets himself fall into the loveseat once more.
“How bad was it?” Jill asks, folding her hand of cards to settle next to Chris.
“Could’ve been worse, he asked about Piers though.”
Chris pinches the bridge of his nose, like he’s trying to stave off a headache, next to him Jill sucks in a harsh breath through her teeth, grasping him by the shoulder sympathetically.
“I’m sorry, that must’ve sucked.” She states a little awkwardly.
“You don’t say.” Chris laughs tiredly. “Sometimes I forget that he didn’t take his death well either. He’s still blaming himself for sending us in there.”
His face drops into his hands, as he says it, Jill continuing to pet his shoulder, until Chris has regained some of his composure, taking a deep breath and smiling grimly at her. Jake holds on a little tighter to Sherry, aware that, without Piers and Chris, they would’ve died back then.
“You know that neither of you are to blame for this.” She talks to him sternly, shaking Chris a little by the joint in her clutch.
He nods, though his whole body language looks absolutely crestfallen. “I know, I just– I thought he was doing better.”
“He is. It’s just a small setback.” Jill emphasizes, her eyes hard, as they stare into Chris’.
He falls silent, leaning back into the cushions and closing his eyes, as he sighs, tension draining out of him. Jake wonders quietly how severe Leon’s mental health struggles really are, having only known him as the high-functioning agent, though when he considers how he’d been behaving even before the flashback, he can now see what they are all so worried about.
A little while later Leon rejoins them unexpectedly, now dressed in an oversized hoodie and black slacks that hang from his hips, hiding his body in their bulk. He’s carrying a tray with a few of the mocktails they made, pushing the door to the living room open with one shoulder and shuffling silently inside.
“Sorry it took so long.” He mumbles, as he sets the beverages down, before disappearing into the kitchen, to get the rest of the cups.
The drink is very sweet, the lime doing little to dampen the sugary taste of the soda, it makes Leon smile though, when the others give their approval, so Jake keeps his opinion to himself, stirring the mixture with his straw and poking absently at the leaves of mint. When he looks closer, Leon seems even more tired now, his eyelids drooping where he sits next to Sherry, head tipped back. He’s dozing for a while, perking up every once and again, when someone mentions his name, though sleep seems to pull him back under relentlessly, not even noticing when, first Rebecca and then Jill, retire for the evening.
Sherry yawns too, at some point, nudging Leon to crawl under his arm, limply resting on his stomach, before she stretches herself over the rest of the couch, her feet coming to lay on Jake’s thighs. After Leon dazedly blinks awake at the weight on his chest, he too sinks lower onto the sofa, closing his eyes and bundling Sherry up securely in his arms, one hand lazily petting through her cropped hair.
Soon after the both of them seem to have dropped off into sleep, snoring softly. Jake moves carefully, to give the two more space, while Chris repositions Leon’s feet to comfortably rest on the sofa, before he takes one of the fleece blankets they keep around to drape it over them. Meanwhile Jake relocates to the armchair Jill has left empty, already tired out for the day himself, but still not feeling ready to sleep. There are too many questions still racing through his head, too much emotion mingling in between them and Jake doesn’t know what to do with any of it, knowing it is not his place to ask.
“He worries me sometimes, you know?” Chris speaks up abruptly, eyes downcast on Leon’s sleeping form and Jake needs a minute to realize that he is actually addressing him.
“How so?” He says, when no one else responds to Chris’ sudden statement.
“I think he’s making progress and then the next day, he can barely get out of bed, or he gets panic attacks that just won’t stop, or something unimportant will set him off and his head will take him somewhere else. It’s–”
Chris shields his eyes with his palm, leaning on it heavily, then he continues.
“It’s been like this, even before he retired but I feel like it’s been getting worse.”
Jake swallows, his mind reeling from the information Chris gives up so readily. He gets hung up on one particular detail though.
“Wait, Leon doesn’t work for the DSO anymore?” It blurts out of him and he feels incredibly rude in the next second.
Claire cuts in:”He’d been discharged for maybe a year now, didn’t Sherry tell you that?”
Jake shakes his head, glancing towards the sleeping pair, Sherry tucked safe under Leon’s chin, who is laying unmoving in his sleep, arms still locked around her. The last thing he knew was, Sherry mentioning they were all rolling back their responsibilities at work, Claire and Chris beginning to spend more time in the office, though he hadn’t known that extended to Leon too.
“Why did they lay him off, didn’t he practically found the DSO?” Jake wonders leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees.
“Because those dickheads didn’t think he was of use anymore. After two decades and they still fucked him over.” Chris curses, raising his arms to cross them in front of his chest, an aura of quiet rage surrounding him.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Jake had heard the stories people told about Leon S. Kennedy, had read excerpts of the Kennedy Report himself. For all he knew, Leon was fighting BOWs since their creation. He couldn’t imagine what reason the DSO could’ve had to fire him, when they might as well just give him a desk job instead.
“Jake, do you even know how he got conscripted?” Claire looks at him questioningly, one eyebrow raised.
His response is immediate.
“Of course, he and Sherry got picked up together and he left her in government custody to go into some special forces training, or whatever.” He recounts offhandedly, voice rough while his eyes wander to the foot of the armchair Claire is occupying.
“That’s what he told us too.” She nods.
Jake doesn’t say anything to that, closing his eyes and dropping his head between his knees in defeat. He’d harboured so much hatred for the guy, and has picked a fight with him over it and for what, only to find out that he’d been the asshole all along?
“After I left to find Chris, Sherry and him got caught by the government, they separated them and Leon got interrogated. They threatened him into service, claiming they’d kill them both if he didn’t relent.” She explained, Jake biting his lip hard to keep his frustration in check.
Of course nothing could be simple with these people, there was no black and white separating at a clear cut line and of course Leon wasn’t the villain, Jake had made him out to be. Him and Sherry had been suffering under the exact same system.
“The contract they made him sign was definitely illegal.” Claire continued, arms wrapped tight around her stomach.
Jake could see the guilt that enveloped her, the way her shoulders hunched towards her ears, as her eyes stared off into the floorboards, seeing something else. He considered what might’ve happened if Claire had stayed and didn’t look for her brother, if it would’ve changed anything at all, or if in the end, they would’ve just had more blackmail material against Leon.
“It was inhumane and their methods bordered on torture, there’s no other way to put it.” Chris shakes his head, mouth twisted into a grim line.
It’s another punch to the gut, no sugarcoating what Leon had been going through since 1998. He didn’t even want to begin to imagine what it must’ve been like. With his own fair share of bullshit under his belt, he knew that it couldn’t have been pretty, stuff like this never was.
Though it made Jake wonder silently, how he managed to stay kind through it all. Even when arguing, Leon hadn’t snapped at him, no matter how much he’d aimed to hurt his feelings. He doesn’t understand how he’d done it. Jake himself had grown bitter and angry with the years and is only now learning what it means to be soft again.
“Why didn’t he tell anyone?” He poses the question, because he needs to know, even if he has no right to, he just needs to hear it first hand.
“Probably because he wanted to protect us, especially while Simmons was still alive.”
Claire cuts in again. Her forehead is creased in thought, wrinkles clearly showing her age at the late hour, she draws her knees close to her chest, tucking her ankles on the seat cushion. It’s like Simmons’ name is a dark cloud suffocating everyone in the room, the mention enough for Claire and Chris to drop the brave facade and look to each other in concern. The weight in Chris’ words drags, when he continues.
“I only got it out of him a few years ago, I think if he’d had it his way, we still wouldn’t know.”
Jake has known people like that too, who were convinced there was only one way to survive the horrors they had seen, they were more often than not akin to Leon, competent and experienced but also quiet, withdrawn, stuck in their heads. Living like that never ended well, at least not as far as Jake knew. He thinks, when he met Sherry, he’d been well on his way to become something similar to people like Leon, teaching himself how to hide the pain behind apathy. But things were different now, Jake had changed and didn’t feel like he’d need that to cope anymore.
“Does Sherry–?” His words peter out, eyes wandering to her, curled up on Leon’s chest, like she’s just a child searching for comfort in her parent’s embrace.
Something sharp shifts in his chest and Jake is sure that it must show on his face, the pain sudden and sitting deep inside of him. He wishes his father wasn’t dead, he wishes–
“He told her a while ago.” Claire’s voice is soft, when she speaks, a mirror of his own expression on her face.
“She didn’t say anything.”
He doesn’t find it in himself to feel upset, knows that she needs to process things at her own pace. It couldn’t have been easy, coming to terms with the fact that for her to have the life she has now, Leon had to give up his own. It’s not fair, to neither of them, their relationship marked by guilt and a debt that can never be repaid.
“I figured, I mean Leon is very private. He doesn’t really like talking about this kinda stuff.” Claire shrugs, though the obvious distress still knots her shoulders.
“I see.”
Jake falls silent, for a long while, where he mulls over the urge to apologize right now, afraid that while he wasn’t at fault for Leon’s flashbacks, their argument might’ve worsened things. He may be a prideful person, who loathes to ask others for anything that isn’t rightfully his, but he can see now that Leon didn’t deserve the tough treatment Jake had given him. And if anything’s worse than swallowing his pride, it’s being indebted to someone.
“Look Jake,” Claire begins and a sense of foreboding overcomes him suddenly. “I know Leon can’t be the perfect father Sherry would deserve but he’s trying and I can tell you, he’d never forgive himself if he’d hurt her.”
It’s his turn to shrink into himself, feeling like he’s been caught red handed, the way Claire seems to read him like an open book.
“Sherry told me he’d never been around much growing up and I just assumed he was a dead-beat. I didn’t understand how she could be so forgiving of him.”
When Jake looks at him, he sees his own father, all the things he’ll never have staring back at him through tired blue eyes. He’s never known Albert Wesker, doesn’t even remember what he looked like but it seemed so easy to imagine he must’ve been somewhat similar to Leon, or rather that Leon must be the same as his father was.
Claire hums quietly in agreement, steepling her hands, as she thinks through his words. Meanwhile Chris shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his face a mask that fails to contain the flare of anger flitting through him and Jake understands, would probably not resent him for losing his patience with him, though he is still thankful he doesn’t.
“I don’t know if Leon will ever be able to forgive himself for the ways in which he failed Sherry, even if it’s been a losing game since the start.”
Claire takes a deep breath, smoothing her hands over her top and righting the frown on her face. She is obviously trying to reign in some complicated wave of emotion welling up inside her and Jake politely lowers his gaze to not fixate too much on her quivering bottom lip, the tension settling on her brow, as she blinks to chase away the tears stinging in her eyes. When she has collected herself again, she continues:
“But we were all too young back then, I had just started college and neither of us were actually aware of what it meant to take care of a child.”
Jake had been younger than that when he joined the army, hellbent on picking up the slack after his mother fell ill. It shouldn’t have been his responsibility, when he himself was still just a child, but his father had left and there was no one else but his mother and him. If someone like Leon would’ve been there, when he’d needed help, maybe his life would’ve turned out differently. He could’ve grown up like the other kids his age, without the violence and the blood and the screams of the dying. But Jake had been alone and if he’d wanted to survive he’d had to save himself.
“I didn’t exactly live up to being a good parent either and all of us know that we won’t be able to make up for lost time, but we can be family to her now.”
Claire has reached with her hands towards him, the bracelets on her wrist clinking together, as he regards the gesture. He wants that too, a family who would come back for him no matter what, who would see the pain they’ve caused and apologize.
He wants to be loved in that way so desperately, he feels pathetic for it.
“I’m glad you are.” Is all he can say, swallowing down the knot in his throat, tears pricking at the backs of his eyes.
Claire leans forward, her grey-blue irises searching for his own. “That extends to you too, you know?”
She touches the back of his hand gingerly, warmth mingling on his overheated skin. Jake has to close his eyes to keep it together, his head dropping in the palm of his other hand. He shakes shortly, briskly swiping the single tear away that breaks free of his iron resolve. It’s hard to feel at home in a room full of strangers but Jake loves Sherry and Sherry loves them, so maybe he can find a piece of family here too, if he lets himself.
Claire’s fingers wrap around his own, as Jake sinks further into himself, letting her clutch at his limp hand, while he breathes through the stabbing pain in his chest. Beside her, he can see the blurry shadow of Chris grasp for his sister, his forehead coming down on her shoulder. He turns his face away from the pair, catching the tears with his sleeve before they can fall.
They don’t talk, the night deep and dark, casting them in leaden quiet. The three of them are alone together, only joined by the sleeping bodies of Sherry and Leon, a father holding his daughter. He withdraws his palm again, when he’s regained his composure, too ashamed still to look straight at them. There are no fireworks outside, the streetlights casting a dim glow through the curtains and nothing else, the world having calmed again and gone to sleep after celebrating the dawn of a new year. Jake hasn’t attributed much weight to the tradition for a while now, cynical when it comes to new beginnings, the chance for redemption– for any change– seeming just out of reach.
But now, in the dead of night, too far from any danger to harm them, he allows himself to hope.
*** Epilogue ***
The heavy weight on his chest shifts, a heartbeat pulsating against his own, the steady rhythm lulling him back into deep sleep, before a limb presses against the circle of his arms.
“Wake up sleepyheads.” A deep voice rumbles next to him, familiar, comfortable, safe.
Leon lets himself relax into the warmth surrounding him, his fingers brushing through the soft curls tickling his nose, until the person sprawled on top of him stirs again, squirming to push themselves up. He’s drawn from his slumber further, when a rough and calloused hand brushes the bangs from his forehead, running one thumb down the bridge of his nose. He knows instinctively who the touch belongs to, chasing after it when Chris lifts his hand from his face again.
“Leon, you can let go now.”
The new voice makes him blink, eyelids fluttering. The shadow he can see looking down at him is still blurry, his eyes having trouble adjusting to the light. Sherry seems equally as tired, as Leon feels, when he can finally make out the contours of her face, posed above him. The hold he has on her loosens then, as he realizes that he has her pressed against him, just like when they’ve fallen asleep.
“Thank you.” She chirps, sitting up in his lap and rubbing at her eyes.
Slowly Leon regains his faculties too, remembering he’d fallen asleep in their living room, with Sherry pillowed beneath his clavicle. It had felt nice, reassuring to have her so close, after he’d slipped into worse memories. He’s still drowsy from sleep, as he pushes himself upwards too, looking a little confused towards Chris. His husband’s eyes are dripping with affection, while he smiles at him, running his fingers through his ruffled hair and smoothing out the wayward strands.
“Let's get you two to bed.” He says.
Leon nods, his limbs leaden with exhaustion, as he tries to get upright. It’s like he’s lagging two steps behind, watching as Sherry is already up and scuffling over the rug, Jake on the other end of the room taking her by the hand to lead her to their shared room. He’s relieved to see him still around, despite their disagreement, he recognizes that Jake is good for Sherry, even though he’s a little rough around the edges. Leon can barely get his legs to work, struggling off the couch. Chris vines an arm around him, after he has finally pushed himself to standing.
The flashback had been bad by itself, though the panic attack that followed had drained him completely. Leon was only glad Chris had been there to get him to their room, so none of the others had to see any of that. One way, or another, he was spent now, not really of much use, until he’d had a few hours of sleep and probably his antidepressants in the morning.
“Goodnight then.”
Sherry mumbles, under the doorframe towards the hallway, the dress she’s wearing askew from their joined nap. He has half a mind to reply, before the two of them pull the door shut behind them. It’s terrifying to consider, he will not always be around to keep her safe, when that’s been all he’s known for half his life. His early retirement makes him feel like he’s suffocating under his own incompetence more often than not already but when Leon gets desperate and panicked, Chris just points to who Sherry has grown up to be and says: She’ll be better than all of us, just you wait.
“You look like you could use some rest in an actual bed as well.”
Chris’ eyes wander over his face, like he’s taking in every groove and scar he can find, sticking to the bags under his eyes for a second too long to not be noticeable. Leon rubs at them, a little self-conscious, aware that the shadows are near-permanent now, after years of sleep-deprivation and recurring bouts of insomnia. The pills are helping with that too at least.
“It’s okay, I said I’ll clean up before tomorrow morning.” He counters, remembering the mess in their living room.
His eyes fall closed automatically though, as Chris leans in to kiss his forehead, pressing his lips there for a long moment, just holding them both still. He doesn’t want to worry him more than he has to and sometimes, Leon feels guilty for not being able to give him the kind of marriage Chris must’ve imagined for himself. But as long as he wants him, Leon will stay. He’s long come to terms with the fact that sometimes people want him to be happy, no matter if he understands why and that there’s no point in denying himself the love others give freely.
Claire steps into their small circle, laying a gentle hand on his elbow.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” She tells him, leaning in to breathe another kiss on his temple.
Leon lets himself lean into it, a fuzzy and heavy sensation radiating from a soft spot beneath his ribs through his entire chest.
“Okay,” he mumbles, one hand loosely placed on her back in a tentative hug, his head lolling onto her shoulder. “Good night.”
“Sleep well.” She replies, the sound of a smile ringing in her voice.
He’s guided towards Chris’ hold, his brain too tired to think straight and before Leon knows it, his husband has hooked his other arm under his knees and lifted him into the air like he weighs nothing. He likes that about him, a lot actually. A pool of heat sloshes dazedly in his stomach, as his hands find the solid spot between his neck and shoulder to hold on, the strong muscle shifting, when Chris begins to move, carrying him upstairs.
He’s already falling asleep again, as Chris lowers him onto the mattress, sliding beneath the comforter next to him, before clicking the bedside lamp off. Leon reaches for the solid body, he knows is not far from him, his eyelids drooping the longer his head rests on the down pillows. His fingers hit heated skin soon enough, hands traveling through the thick curls of chest hair trailing up Chris’ navel and towards his clavicles, before coming to rest on one tender pec. Leon can feel himself being drawn in by Chris, a strong arm coming to tuck him flush against his side. It’s so warm and comfortable, Leon almost instantly drops off again.
“I love you.” The words slur out, easy to say in the dark, sleep muddling his thoughts and anxiety silenced by pure fatigue swimming through his bones.
“I love you too.”
It always comes easy to Chris, he tells him so often, Leon has lost count of it, but even after all this time, it still takes his breath away. He could’ve never imagined himself like this, not only happy, but also loved . Nothing can take that feeling away from him again.
Sleep envelopes him at last.