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It all started during the mission, as usual, his objective was straightforward: to infiltrate a high-security facility that was under suspicion of producing bio-weapons, gather crucial data and evidence, and escape without being detected. However, fate had other plans. As his cover was discovered, they sent B.O.W.s chasing after him through the facility, as someone triggered the self-destruct system since they couldn't catch him. He didn't plan to escape outside and the building to explode and send him flying through the air; he landed with a bone-jarring splash into an icy, unforgiving lake.
As he hit the water, it surged into his lungs. He fought to break the surface, gasping for air while coughing violently, his stomach turned as he managed to drag himself to the muddy shore, on his hands and knees, he vomited up dirty lake water before collapsing onto the damp ground, anguished breaths escaping his lips. The cool mud clung to him as he struggled to regain his composure. He fumbled with his pocket, relief flooding through him as he pulled out the small flash drive, grateful to see it intact; however, a deep-seated unease churned within him *what if the frigid lake water damaged the files?*
After a quick briefing with Hunnigan, he learned that he would have to wait up to two days for evacuation. Trapped in a safe house, anxiety gnawed at him like a relentless beast. Desperate for warmth, he started a fire, the crackling embers illuminating the musty, dimly lit room. He peeled away his drenched clothing, which clung to his frame like a second skin, and set them near the fire to dry. He grunted as he sat in front of the fireplace. It took a few minutes for the fire to ease the chill that clung to his bones, though his hair stubbornly remained damp. Frustration bubbled up inside him.
“I really need a haircut,” he muttered to himself as he ran his fingers through his thick, wet locks. He found MREs in an old pantry, but the thought of food wasn't appealing; his stomach was unsettled after he threw up lake water hours ago. Surrendering to fatigue, he collapsed onto the old, creaky bed, the worn mattress offering little comfort. He couldn't recall when he fell asleep, but a sudden wave of heat jolted him awake, beads of sweat trickling down his brow. A low growl of frustration escaped his lips as he considered his lack of options. Venturing outside while he's naked was hardly a sensible choice; his clothes were most likely still sopping wet, but the oppressive heat left him with little alternative. Finally, he abandoned the bed for the cool embrace of the floor, its chill providing a momentary relief that lured him back into slumber.
Hours later, he stirred once more, shivering uncontrollably as waves of cold washed over him. With great effort, he pushed himself back into bed, his muscles protesting with each movement. His body ached in many places, and lingering fatigue weighed heavily on his chest, remnants of the intense coughing fits still echoing in his lungs. Leon groaned softly, feeling wretched and longing for Chris’s presence. Throughout the night, restless sleep eluded him. He woke repeatedly, alternating between being too hot and too cold—a cruel game his body played. By morning, he attempted to force down some food but ended up expelling it mere moments after swallowing, rage bubbling inside him as he hurled the MRE across the room in frustration. Each breath was accompanied by a persistent tickle in his throat, a dull ache that made deep inhalations painful. His nose began to run during the previous night, and during the morning, a headache steadily escalated, clouding his thoughts.
A short time later, Hunnigan's voice crackled through the receiver, delivering the unwelcome news that he would have to remain in the safe house for another night. A flicker of hope surged within him, thinking he might wake up feeling better—that his body was just sore and needed one more day of rest. Yet the following night proved to be a torment similar to the one before; the headache intensified into a migraine, and staying awake for any length of time became difficult. Despite his fatigue, he managed to get a few hours of restless sleep.
Thankfully, the fire dried his cloths before evac finally, arrived. Weary and listless, Leon stepped aboard the helicopter, surprised to find a medic waiting for him. "You’re Leon Kennedy, right?” the medic exclaimed with an almost boyish enthusiasm. “Y-yeah, that's me," Leon rasped, his voice raspy and strained, causing the medic's excitement to falter slightly. "It's a pleasure to meet you! I've heard so many things about you," the medic replied as Leon sat down and strapped in.
“Good things, I hope?” Leon managed to inquire, though a sense of anxiety crept in. "Well, mixed things, but—" the medic paused as Leon suddenly started violently coughing, his face contorting with strain. The medic dropped to a knee, concern flooding his features as he waited for Leon to regain his composure. "Uh, sir, are you alright? Are you injured?”
“No, I'm fine, I just s-swallowed wrong,” Leon lied as he cleared his throat, causing sharp, dry pains. Relief flooded through him when the medic accepted the excuse. However, he soon learned that the medic had been ordered to conduct a thorough examination. Realizing he had no choice, Leon begrudgingly accepted his fate—too exhausted to argue that he was fine. The medic poked and prodded, mumbling under his breath. “You have a few bruised ribs and a sprained shoulder, but they should heal on their own. No concussion, though your temperature is a bit elevated...”
“Are you sure you're feeling alright?” the medic asked, concern lacing his voice.
“Yes, I'm sure. Are you done with your examination?” Leon asked, irritation creeping into his voice.
The medic, aiming to avoid conflict or upsetting Leon, quickly released him and stepped back. “Oh, uh, yes,” he promptly responded with a nod, allowing Leon to settle into the uncomfortable chair. He needed to write his report before he could relax fully. During the helicopter ride, Leon's composure started to crack; he kept sniffling and wiping sweat from his forehead every few seconds. It was clear to the medic that Leon was distressed as he observed the agent. Despite realizing this, Leon was glad the medic hadn't said anything, probably because he was too nervous—being his first meeting with the agent—to speak up or confront Leon, unlike Hunnigan.
After a while, the helicopter finally landed, and he was back on base, marking the mission as officially over and complete. As he disembarked, Leon felt like he could finally take a moment to breathe without B.O.W.s chasing him down or the medic staring at him. But even in the safety of solitude, he struggled for air; his nose was stuffed up, and every breath sent sharp pangs through his aching lungs. Fatigue weighed heavily on him, every muscle screaming for rest, while his head throbbed relentlessly, making coherent thoughts feel nearly impossible. Sweat clung to his shirt, chilling him as it began to dry, and goosebumps prickled his skin, a shiver coursing through him as his body fought to hold onto what little warmth it had left. He felt like shit. “I just got these dry only a few hours ago!” Leon grumbled as he adjusted his shirt.
Leon’s stomach suddenly twisted; the feeling of needing to puke was overwhelming, but he pushed through his discomfort. Leon focused on other pressing matters—getting home to Chris. He hurriedly dropped off the report and flash drive at Hunnigan's office, a jumbled mishmash of notes he had scrawled during the tumultuous helicopter ride. Before Hunnigan could speak, Leon hurried out of the office and rushed to the public restroom in their building.
He barely made it in time as his stomach tightened painfully, forcing him to vomit more bile. He felt a wave of heat wash over him as he continued to retch, gripping the toilet rim tightly as he was left with nothing but dry heaves. Tears streamed down his face, snot ran from his nose, and saliva pooled on his chin as he coughed from the effort. The thought of being enveloped in Chris's arms consumed him; he craved the familiar comfort of Chris’s body heat pressed against his back, the soothing scent of their shared blankets and sheets lingering in his mind. The morning greeting, the warmth of a soft kiss—God, how he missed being home. Days had stretched into eternities while he was away.
The drive home was grueling; the harsh reality of exhaustion hit him like a wave, washing over him until he felt submerged. His vision blurred intermittently, forcing him to pull over more than once, heart racing, to avoid losing control of the car. Despite the cool air streaming from the vents, Leon’s body was riddled with shivers, a sheen of sweat coating his shirt. His throat burned painfully, raspy and dry, a relentless reminder of his body's betrayal as he struggled to find a comfortable position behind the wheel. Each muscle ached, yearning for the sweet release of rest. Yet, thoughts of Chris waiting for him sparked a flicker of strength deep within. After what felt like an unbearable eternity on the road, he arrived home, overwhelmed by an intense wave of relief.
But as he stepped inside, disappointment settled like a heavy fog; the space felt too quiet. Chris’s car was absent from the driveway, a glaring absence that twisted something in Leon's chest. A deep frown creased his brow as he reached for his phone, desperate for any connection to the man who filled his heart.
“Hey, baby! Did you make it home okay?” Chris's voice resonated through his phone, bright and warm, cutting through the haze of exhaustion. Each syllable only deepened the ache in Leon's chest; tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, a mix of emotional frustration and longing battling for dominance.
“Yeah, where are you? I thought you’d be back by now.” The sharp pain in his throat made each word a struggle, leaving his voice rasping and slightly broken.
“Y-yeah, about that,” Chris replied, an undercurrent of regret coloring his tone. “I have some things I need to finish up here, but I’ll be on my way soon.”
Leon sank onto the couch, his body collapsing against the fabric, cool against his flushed skin. “Make sure you hurry up; I’ve missed you,” he admitted, allowing vulnerability to creep into his voice, every word heavy with longing.
“I will, but what’s wrong with your voice, baby?” Chris asked, concern lacing his words. Leon instinctively rubbed his neck, attempting to coax the tension lingering there. “Probably from all the shouting I was doing while on mission,” he offered with a forced lightness, hoping to ease Chris’s worry. Chris hummed softly on the other end, a sound that wrapped around Leon like a warm embrace.
“Drink some tea, I’ll see you soon, love,” Chris said, and Leon nodded even though Chris couldn’t see him. His heart swelled with affection as he murmured, “Love you,” before hanging up.
After the call, Leon found himself utterly drained, a physical weight anchoring him to the couch. It felt as if his body had turned to lead, each limb sore and heavy, the thought of getting up overwhelming. He resigned himself to turning on a random movie, hoping to distract himself, promising himself he could shower later. He settled into the inviting softness of the couch, grabbing one of their favorite blankets and tucking a plush pillow beneath his head. Fatigue washed over him like a gentle tide, and within moments, he succumbed to the sweet embrace of sleep.
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Chris was ready to throw himself out the damn window with how long it was taking to pore over the reports and mission plans. Each paper caused irritability to bubble beneath his skin. But when he received a call from Leon, it ignited a spark of determination in him, fueling his resolve to push through and wrap up the task. After two interminable hours, everything was finally finished and filed. Chris snatched his keys, anticipation thrumming through his veins as he headed to his car, longing to see Leon again.
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“Rambo, huh?” Chris caught a glimpse of the movie playing on the TV as he walked in, smirking at the sight. A classic, he mused, but the sudden groan that escaped Leon's lips brought his attention back to the couch. Chris's heart sank at the sight before him. Leon was still dressed in his mission clothes, covered in dirt and grime, sweat glistened on his forehead, and his hair clung messily to his skin. He looked rough; the toll of the mission etched across his face.
Without a second thought, Chris knelt by Leon, brushing his fingers gently through the damp strands of hair, pushing them away from Leon’s furrowed brow. The heat radiating off him was alarming. *Is he injured?* Chris wondered, his heart racing.
He abruptly stood and inspected him closely for any visible injuries, the fear rising in his chest at the thought of Leon silently suffering. The man had a history of ignoring his injuries until they got bad enough that he couldn’t ignore them anymore—either that or until Chris noticed something was wrong and forced him to show the injury. Keeping this in mind, he lifted Leon’s shirt. The pale-toned, scarred skin revealed no new injuries, just bad bruising. Next, he pulled down Leon’s pants, earning an annoyed grunt from him. There were no injuries there either, just severe bruising and some scrapes.
So his mind raced to *what if it's internal bleeding?* He checked Leon's pulse and found it erratic. Worried, he questioned whether he should take Leon to the hospital. Chris gently rubbed his rough, calloused hand up and down Leon's arm, trying to rouse him awake. Leon groaned and weakly tried to push Chris off.
“Leon? Baby, it's me," Chris softly spoke so he wouldn't accidentally startle the agent awake. Leon groaned again but finally peeled open his eyes. Chris immediately noticed that Leon's eyes were glassy and he wasn't fully alert, which made Chris more concerned. “Chr,” Leon started to say before having a coughing fit. Chris furrowed his brows. “Yeah, it's me, baby. Can you give me a sitrep?” Chris asked him. Leon took a moment to process what Chris was asking before offering a weak nod.
He paused, assessing his body before responding. “Head hurts-” Leon started with a rasp before coughing. After he calmed down a bit, his expression turned disgusted and pained by the feeling of his sore throat. “Throat hurts, breathing is a little difficult, and I'm freezing,” Leon replied, sounding even more tired. Chris was pretty sure the symptoms Leon listed were all signs of a cold or flu, but he decided he'd have to call Rebeca to double-check. But Leon still smelled of sweat and was covered in grime, so Chris decided that a warm bath was a good place to start caring for his sick husband.
Chris let out a deep sigh as he stood up, the weight of the day lingering in his chest. He made his way to their cozy bedroom, tossing his phone onto his side of the bed with a soft thud. After a brief pause, he headed to the bathroom, turning on the faucet and adjusting it to a warm temperature, mindful not to let it get too hot. He wanted to keep the water comforting, ensuring that his husband’s temperature wouldn’t spike higher. With the tub filling, Chris grabbed a few fluffy towels, placing them neatly on the counter before returning to the living room.
Gently, he approached Leon, who was peacefully asleep on the couch again. Chris lovingly rubbed Leon's arm, stirring him awake with a soft caress. “Hmm?” Leon murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.
“Hey, I’m going to carry you to the bath, okay?” Chris whispered, hooking his arm under Leon's legs while supporting his back with the other, cradling him against his chest. A confused groan escaped Leon’s lips as he stirred. “Wha?” he asked, his brow wrinkled in sleepy confusion as Chris effortlessly whisked him away toward their shared bathroom.
“I got you,” Chris assured him, feeling the warmth of Leon’s body pressed against him. Leon’s slight whines showed his reluctance to be moved, but Chris didn’t mind. Leon, even though he was quite built, was easy to carry for Chris.
Once in the bathroom, Chris gently lowered Leon onto the toilet seat. Leon groaned, scrunching his eyes shut and rubbing them as if trying to wipe away the fog of sleep. “Are you okay?” Chris asked, concern etched across his features. Leon took slow, measured breaths before responding, “Headache,” he whined, the rasp in his voice adding to Chris’s worry.
“Why am I in the bathroom?” Leon asked, his brows knitting together in a frown as he gazed at Chris. “You’re still in your mission clothes, and you’re dirty. I’m going to help you wash up and then get you to bed, okay?” Chris replied, his tone gently coaxing. Leon grumbled in protest, “I can just sleep on the couch—it keeps the bed from getting dirty.”
“No way,” Chris countered, a slight smirk creeping onto his face as he recalled how much he had missed having Leon by his side in bed. “I’m not letting you sleep on the couch in your condition. Besides, I have plans for us when you’re feeling better.”
Leon sighed in defeat, giving Chris the okay with a slow nod. Chris carefully stripped Leon of his mission clothes and slowly lowered him into the warm bath. A contented sigh escaped Leon’s lips as he relaxed. “Warm,” he breathed, and Chris couldn’t help but smile as he disrobed too.
He gathered the towels from the counter and placed them on the toilet lid, preparing for the next step. “I’m going to sit behind you, okay? So I can help you wash,” Chris said, his voice reassuring. Leon nodded, weakly scooting to allow Chris to settle in the bath behind him. As Chris wrapped his arms around Leon’s torso, pulling him gently against his chest, Leon’s head fell back with a soft sigh of contentment, his exhaustion evident.
Chris let Leon rest as he tenderly washed them both. After rinsing away the soap, Chris accidentally startled Leon awake. “Shh, I’ve got you,” he murmured, wrapping a towel around his waist before quickly securing one around Leon. Cradling him in his arms once more, Chris carried Leon to their bed. Feeling a shiver coursing through Leon, he hurriedly helped him dress and snuggled him under the warm covers.
Once Chris joined Leon in bed, his husband instinctively scooted back, pressing his body against Chris’s chest, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. Chris felt a rush of affection as he reached for his phone, deciding to call Rebecca while Leon drifted back into slumber.
“Chris?” Rebecca answered almost immediately, her voice cutting through the quiet space. “Hey, Rebecca. Sorry to disturb your work,” Chris apologized, knowing full well how much she detested interruptions.
“It’s alright, what’s up?” she replied, her tone shifting to a more serious cadence. Chris took a deep breath, steeling himself as he explained, “It’s Leon. He—”
“What happened? Is he okay?” Rebecca interrupted, concern lacing her voice.
“Yeah, well, he returned from a mission earlier this evening, and I found him with a high temperature. I checked him for injuries and found severe bruising. I’m worried he might have internal bleeding,” Chris rushed, the words tumbling out in a mixture of fear and hope.
“Hmm, okay. What are his symptoms?” she asked, her professionalism reemerging.
“I asked him for a status report, and he said his head hurts, his throat is sore, he’s freezing, and it hurts to breathe. I know it sounds like a cold or flu, but the bruising has me really concerned.”
“Have you checked his pulse?” Rebecca inquired steadily.
“Yes, it felt erratic,” Chris responded quickly.
“Alright. Did he mention any stomach cramping?”
“No, he didn’t say anything about his stomach,” Chris replied, his worry building.
“Keep a close eye on him. If he vomits at all, check for blood. If there is any, call me immediately, and I’ll be there as quickly as possible,” she instructed.
“Thank you, Rebecca,” Chris sighed, feeling the weight of her advice settle on his shoulders.
“No problem, Chris. I’ll talk to you soon,” she said before hanging up, leaving Chris alone with his thoughts, the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting soft shadows around the room. The steady sound of Leon’s breathing beside him was both comforting and unsettling. It was a reminder of the peace they often shared, yet tonight it was accompanied by an underlying tension.
As the hours passed, Chris drifted in and out of a restless sleep, the weight of worry pressing on his chest. Suddenly, the night air was pierced by the harsh sound of Leon retching in the bathroom. Chris’s heart sank as he jolted upright, the comfort of their shared space evaporating in an instant. He shuffled to the bathroom, where the sight of his partner in distress was a knife to his gut. Leon’s face was pale, glistening with sweat, and his usually vibrant eyes were clouded with discomfort.
“Hey, just breathe,” Chris murmured, trying to keep his voice steady. He knelt beside Leon, rubbing small circles on his back, feeling the tension in his muscles as he fought through wave after wave of nausea. After what felt like an eternity, Leon finally slumped back against the cool tile wall, exhaustion etched in every feature.
Chris quickly fetched Leon’s toothbrush, the familiar, mundane task somehow grounding him amidst the chaos. He gently coaxed Leon to brush his teeth, ensuring he rid himself of the awful taste lingering in his mouth. “Let’s get you back to bed,” Chris said with a hint of relief, helping Leon shuffle back to their bedroom, supporting him every step of the way.
In the days that followed, Chris found himself caught in a cycle of sleepless nights and endless worry. He was up and down, attending to Leon’s needs, offering comfort with whispered reassurances and gentle touches. Each time he caught a glimpse of Leon’s smile slipping back into place, a wave of ease washed over him. Slowly but surely, Leon was showing signs of improvement—he began joking and making small quips again, which was music to Chris's ears. After the third day, he was able to keep a little bit of food and water down.
Finally, after a long week, Leon seemed fully recovered, and a spark ignited in his eyes that had been absent for too long. Chris exhaled deeply, feeling the weight on his shoulders lighten for the first time in a few days. Yet, as the evening wore on, he quickly realized that tranquility would not last. Leon had a reservoir of pent-up energy that he was eager to unleash, and Chris braced himself for another night of lively antics that would keep him awake once more. Little did he know, the night was still young, and Leon was ready to reclaim the joy and pleasure he'd missed.
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0hpossum Thu 11 Sep 2025 06:10AM UTC
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