Chapter Text
Waking up to a splitting headache was never something Leon enjoyed, even if it was a recurrent occurrence.
The headache was blinding, in more senses than one. He tried opening his eyes at first, only to be greeted with a whitening pain and a tremulous dizziness that forced him to roll on his side in case the need to vomit emerged.
He groaned, one hand on his eyes and the other finding leverage under his ribs so he could sit up and enjoy his torture upright. The pain did not diminish even when he let his head fall between his knees, but he did try to relax, breathing in and out, loosening the wrinkles between his eyebrows, desperate to find a guilty factor that would ease the agony when quelled.
But the pain did not subdue, only increased as he became more aware of himself, of the expanse of skin that hid his muscles, of the nerves that flared with each breathing, of the heart that was trying so rigorously to calibrate his pulse.
As mentioned, this was not the first time Leon had woken up to moments of suffering before the torment settled in, so his first instinct was to blame the alcohol. He might have drunk one too many, or ten too many, maybe fifteen too many, the night before. He cursed his past self, imagining that same self cursing his present one with the taste of whiskey on his tongue and a laughter that was too painful to imagine.
He had no memories of last night. Or the one before that, for that matter. What day was it again?
He heard the rustle of sheets that came with moving under them, and it cost him a second to realize that he was not the one moving around. From the way the room seemed to spin around him, it was hard to imagine.
Leon wondered if he had taken someone home, the day before. If he had found a pretty face and malleable hands to fuck and forget. Or, on the contrary, if he had found broad shoulders and hard skin able to toss him around. And all of that just to blow off steam. To forget. The thought felt like a splinter under his nail, bothersome, an aching soreness that choked him and made him bit his lip.
He wasn't like that. He did not bring just anyone home just to let them go the day after. That was a dick move and he liked to think that, even if a bit of an asshole, he was not a dick.
"Leon?"
They seemed to know his name, at the very least. The deep baritone told him that it was no girl accompanying him, and the tone in which he was being called informed him that there was a level of trust between them.
Furthermore, he knew that voice.
"Chris?" Leon tried, without opening his eyes, and felt a hand close easily around his wrist, the one that was trying to hold his head together, and maybe there was something he had not taken into account, maybe this was a dream, maybe this was his drunken imagination giving him what he always had wanted but collecting its payment in return, a deep, puncturing pain in exchange of what he had dreamt of since first meeting Chris.
"Leon." A whisper came next, and Chris sat by Leon's side, one hand still on his wrist and the other caressing his back, and yes, this was exactly what he had been after, what he had wished for, what he had pursued, what he knew could never happen, would never happen, and he felt the slick touch of guilt against his spine, the kind that left an imprint and never went away, because he was enjoying the touch even though Chris voiced his name in a worried manner, the kind of worry only Chris gave, hefty and inevitable.
Leon tried to speak, to tell him that everything was fine, just fine, like it always was. Betrayed by enemies and allies alike? Fine. Nearly killed by a B.O.W.? Fine. Thirteen broken bones and a concussion to heal by himself? Never felt better. Waking up to the love of his life coddling him because of a simple headache? Hoo boy.
But no words came to him, only a wet cough and the taste of metal, and trying to breathe through his nose was a no-go, because his nostrils seemed clogged, unfunctional, and when a hand brought his head up and a finger ran over his upper lip he guessed why even before Chris told him so.
"Your nose is bleeding. Leon?" Chris called, urgently, the hand on his back stilling and coming to Leon's nape.
"Better trim my fingernails, then." Leon replied to that, laughed, and then, promptly, lost consciousness.
༒︎
The second time Leon woke up, the headache was still present, but bearable, with the floating sensation that spoke of sedatives running in his veins.
He opened his eyes to white, but this time it was an inviting color, a comfort, not the bright slash of pain that had assaulted him before. The beeping sounds and the murmurs were easily recognizable, at least for someone who had been so many times in a hospital, for himself and for others, and so he immediately relaxed, since, when he thought about hospitals, in hand came the thought of a completed mission as well.
"I had the strangest dream." Leon said, even before his eyes were fully open, discerning Claire's and Chris' voices above the ones that came from the hallway.
A chorus that sang his name came to him, and he smiled in a trained way, the way they all expected him to, an offering of solace, comforting warmth and tangible tranquility. Leon might have not remember why he was there, but he knew how it felt to be the one waiting for someone to wake up, how it crushed your spirits, how it sliced your soul with frustration and anger. The way the 'what if's' swam in your mind.
So Leon would not give them anything to worry about. Would not tell them how it still hurt to move, to talk, to breathe. How his head was better, but the clouds in his brain told him it was just because of some sort of sedation, and not because of an improvement in his health.
A hand came to his forehead, caressed his fringe back so it was out of the way, and only then did he realize that he had closed his eyes once more. He opened them, then, and found Chris by his left side and Claire by his right, Chris being the one close enough to be touching him.
They seemed... different. Worried, above all, but different. Claire had a few new wrinkles that made her look older, more mature, elegant even. A few white hairs made their way into her ponytail, one longer than he remembered. And Chris... Chris. He was broader, much so. Seemed taller even sitting down. Had a few white hairs of his own, but they suited him just fine, like the foam of a wave, like the petals of a flower. His jaw was more prominent, and the sight of it made want bloom in Leon's chest, made him wonder how it would feel to hold Chris' face in his hands, preferably while they kissed, undressed, touched each other.
"Hey. You OK?" Chris' voice came to him, and Leon watched his eyes, thinner with age, but vibrant with the flicker of something so deep Leon could not reach for it. "Leon?"
"Fine." Leon croaked, his voice a raspy thing, all broken glass. "I'm fine. Just a bit out of it."
"I can tell." Chris said, his eyebrows raising just so from the frown he had worn.
Chris' fingers were still intertwined with his strands of hair, his thumb brushing against Leon's forehead. Leon raised his own hand, manipulated by instinct, and stopped when a silvery shimmer caught his eye.
A ring around his finger. A silver band, plain and beautiful.
Leon was caught for a moment. It was just him watching the ring for a couple of seconds, but Chris saw something in his eyes, an understanding turning the gears inside Chris' mind.
"Claire." Chris called, speaking to her without breaking his gaze away from Leon's eyes, catching his hand with his own, lowering it. "Do you mind getting the nurse and some coffee? Well, maybe just water for this invalid over here."
"Fuck you. I'm no invalid." Leon argued, mostly just for show, but also so he would not blurt an unadulterated 'what the actual fuck' at the way Chris was still holding his hand, like it meant something.
"Yeah, yeah." Claire rolled her eyes at them, and left not before squeezing Leon's shoulder for a second, always making sure those around her could remember how she was forever by their side.
Chris gave Leon five seconds after the door closed behind Claire before he sat closer to him, leaning forwards and squeezing his hand.
"Okay. Talk. What's up?" He said, with a tone that spoke of trust and companionship, like if they were alone no secret could slip its way between them, like the world had no business spinning around anymore, like their bond was enough to keep the nightmares away.
"Nothing." Leon replied, but he felt breathless, his whisper a stunned little thing, and for a moment, his eyes were unable to look away from the genuine and heartfelt glance Chris offered him, like Leon would treat whatever Chris offered right, like no matter what he did, Chris would not fall into disappointment.
It became too much, the sincerity Chris offered, the patience, the way he waited for the other shoe to drop, and Leon looked away, glancing at their joined hands, and it was then that he saw a ring on Chris' finger as well, one that matched his own. He let himself dream, for a moment, let himself fly away in search of a world where his wishes were not impossible, just another fact, and his filter crunched under the weight of it all, so he spoke next.
"Are you married?" Was the question, and Leon bit his lip, looked up and prayed for his words to pass as a joke.
As a joke they passed, because Chris laughed at his question, punching Leon's shoulder lightly.
"Yes, to an idiot." He said, laughter still a glistening shine decorating his face, making his pretty wrinkles pop.
Chris was not letting go of his hand while he laughed, and Leon supposed it was a bad moment to ask if he himself was married as well.
༒︎
Claire came back with a nurse, Rebecca, the strong aroma of coffee and a newspaper.
Rebecca was the first one to ask Leon how he was, much to the nurse's apparent annoyance. She looked older as well, her hair short still but her eyes surrounded by smile lines. It made her look endearing, more so than she already was. She positioned herself on Leon's right, much like Claire, as if neither of them wanted to interrupt whatever Chris and Leon had going on. Leon still did not have a word for it, could not attribute a plausible description that could placate his beating heart and the tremor in his bones.
After he was done with Rebecca's questions, the nurse voiced more of her own, and Leon had been in this game for long enough. He knew what to say to each and every question, how to say it, when to say it, the pauses that were allowed and the ones that were too much to linger on.
So the nurse deemed him fit to leave, explaining how the medical clearance worked, what needed to be signed, and asked them to wait until a doctor could read her assessment so he could leave for home that same day.
Leon did not mention how his head still hurt, how there seemed to be a void in his memory, how looking at his own hands felt like someone else was piloting his brain. He did not want anyone to worry, much less to be scared of something that he could endure alone.
He heard Claire asking the nurse if Leon could drink coffee, heard the nurse giving her the go-ahead. She handed him the steaming coffee, and Leon drank while Claire explained to them all the queue that she had encountered at the coffee shop, and how Rebecca was already there and had been the one to order their drinks.
Rebecca only smiled, nodded when needed and took the newspaper to start with her reading. That way, Leon was able to catch a glimpse of the date listed on the newspaper.
The bad news were that he had a whole self-diagnosis of amnesia. The good news were that he was only off by ten years.
He might have misunderstood the idea of good news.
༒︎
Before Leon had to leave, Jill made her entrance with a bag full of new clothes and her SUV keys. Chris was the one to thank her for the gesture, taking the clothes in his hands and leaving Leon even more confused for the familiarity that bleed from the angles of his joints as he moved.
"You're welcome for remembering something so basic." Jill said, half a smile on her lips, crossing her arms and nodding towards Leon as a way of asking if he was good. Leon returned the nod, and the list of people he was fooling grew by adding one Jill Valentine.
"I was too worried about Leon passing out on me to remember to grab clean clothes." He said, and no one questioned why they had been together in the first place, further peeling away the defense that still denied the possibility of them being a couple. "Ladies." Chris stood up, taking a hold of the shirt Jill had brought. "If you'll excuse us." And that was the cue for the three of them to abandon their side, leaving Chris and Leon alone.
"Can you take that off by yourself?" Chris asked, looking at the gown Leon was wearing, holding the clean shirt by its neck like he was about to dress a toddler, and Leon wanted to hug his own frame, hid behind modesty and shame, but he had never had none of those things much less so in front of Chris.
"I can undress, and," The 'and' came with a protuberant tone. "Dress by myself, big guy."
That only prompted Chris to sigh, almost as if he had yearned for the contrary, and threw the shirt towards Leon's head, Leon easily catching it before it made any contact with his face.
"At least I don't have to worry about your reflexes." Chris said, sitting down on the chair he had been using since Leon woke up.
That left Leon, with his shirt in hand, watching him patiently, waiting, perhaps, for Chris' exit, which never came. But, as Chris took out his phone and started scrolling, he guessed that in the years he was missing, their level of bonding had become strong enough for them to not mind if the other was in the same room while naked, so he dressed, submerged in an uncharacteristic silence, wondering if his dreams could have become as palpable as the warmth in his hand left behind by Chris' skin.