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It's kind of funny how one can understand their own body after years and years of practice. Chris knows when he needs to rest, when to eat, how long he can push his body even when he ignores the warning signs.
He can also tell when his body is about to quit on him.
For the past couple of weeks (Months, sweetie, says a voice that sounds suspiciously like his husband when he's trying to be annoying to prove a point) Chris has felt a panic attack brewing.
Usually he can just busy himself with something and it'll fizzle out without the attack happening. It doesn't matter that his friends get upset about that, he has shit he has to handle. He's a grown man. He can worry about that later. Other people have it worse, and he needs to make sure they are being focused on.
Like Rose.
He sits across from her, as she works on Calculus homework. The BSAA archives/library was as close as a neutral space they could get and it made sure there wasn't a guard breathing down their necks.
She pushes the sheet towards him. "How about now?"
Chris had mentioned offhandley that he enjoyed math. It was simple for him to understand and even if there were different routes, the same conclusion could be reached. It was predictable.
He needed that.
Besides, that mechanical engineering degree of his took a lot of damn work, and it was practically collecting dust. Even though helping Rose was not something he had to do, he wanted to. Rose was a good kid and it was nice to pretend that she didn't hate him for a couple of hours.
He scans over her and mentally checks her. He clicks his tongue and points to a part of the problem. "Skipped a step, kid."
"Seriously? But I got the problem right!"
"Yeah, it may have worked here but it won't work in the future." Chris pulls a piece of paper from her notebook and diligently copies the problem. "Do it again, but I want you to explain the steps. I want to see where your head's at."
Rose huffs but look determinedly down at the problem. She does as he instructed.
"There," Chris stops her. "You have to swap the signs if you're borrowing."
Rose fixes her mistake and continues on.
"How about now?"
Chris takes the paper and works through it. His mouth is moving as he calculates and, "Yeah, good job."
She smiles and it looks so much like Claire. How many nights had he spent coming off of work and trying to help Claire with algebra while hoping his paycheck would be big enough to keep the lights on? Neither of them should be in the situations they are. Rose should be getting tutored by her real father and Claire should have been a journalist.
His fuckups. His fault.
"Chris." Rose says, voice annoyed as if this isn't the first time she's called him.
He can feel it bubbling in the back of his throat, like he's about to vomit. Nothing had even happened, why is he like this? Chris scratches as his cheek and looks at her.
"Mom said you're making us dinner tonight. You need to put actual effort into it."
Chris snorts, "You both liked my tacos."
"Yeah, well apparently that's super easy to make. Rebecca said you're a really good cook so now I want to see what your food is like when you actually try."
Chris bites back the response that the food combinations Rebecca usually eats would send a T-virus infected running, and anything seems like a Michelin star meal in comparison. But he'd rather not have Rebecca or Billy attempting to kick his door down at three a.m.
"Alright." He'll have a cigarette after they're gone.
~~~
It almost happens at a meeting of all fucking things.
"We cannot in good faith allow more men to be sent to their deaths when there is a solution. The tactics of the past are not working." Snipes an assistant director. She nurses a coffee. She was a nice enough woman, who had seemed like she truly believed in the BSAA and its mission. Chris doesn't know if that means anything, now.
The meeting had been called to discuss Chris continuing his leadership role of the Hound Wolf Squad, and now they were here, actually debating the legitimacy of using bioweapons. Chris would laugh if he knew how to.
He and the others who actually survived that goddamn mansion, who survived everything that came after, started the BSAA to put an end to bioweapons, once and for all. All of the appealing, all of the infighting, all of the sacrifices that they made for this organization to grow and spread has lead to this.
Chris's throat burns. He doesn't know if it's from grief or anger.
"And bioweapons don't work either," Jill snarls back. "I would know. Developing them to fight for us will make it easier for the BOWs to turn against us as well. We increase the research and funding for BOWs to be developed and we're doing exactly what Umbrella wanted."
"That is not comparable, Umbrella was selling it's research to fuel wars-"
"Is this not the same thing?"
"You can't say that when we still have you or Lieutenant Nivans-"
"Don't you dare," Jill hisses.
Chris fights to keep his face blank.
"Lieutenant Nivans and I are both of sound mind and we are human. If you value your position and want to even have your opinion considered, you will watch yourself." Jill finishes.
Chris glances at the director, who has been awfully quiet.
Nice to know how everyone truly feels about Jill and Piers then.
"Neither of you would have been in those situations if we had BOWs on the front line!" The assistant director is gesticulating wildly now. "What we have been doing isn't-"
The sound of ceramic shatters and suddenly Chris is 25 again. He's slamming into a china cabinet after turning a corner too fast because he doesn't have enough bullets and fuck were there this many zombies when he came through the first time? The shattering of china alerts more of those fuckers and he's pushing himself to run even faster because he knows there's bullets in the room up ahead, he knows, because he left them there on purpose in case he needed them and he's slamming a zombie into a wall because it needs to get the fuck off of him he is not dying here he needs to make sure Jill gets out and where the fuck did Wesker go why is he alone
"Chris."
Jill is right here. He is not in Arklay and he needs to calm the fuck down. Judging on Jill's face, she caught him before it could go too far. In the background, he hears discussion but he can't understand it.
Not now. Please to whatever god is listening not now.
"Chris." Jill says again. Her hand is on his shoulder and her blue eyes are boring into his and he knows that she knows that this isn't about a cup surprising him.
"Fine."
"We will reconvene after a brief recess." The director announces tiredly. "We are here to discuss Redfield's unique situation, not Valentine or Nivans. It would do good to remember that."
"Call me." Jill demands.
He nods. He needs a damn cigarette. He leaves.
~~~~
Leon is home when Chris makes it back. He's in the kitchen and his voice is talking quietly. Must be on the phone then.
Chris is fucking exhausted. All he wants to do is bury his face in Leon's chest and block out the world for a couple of hours. Please, that's all he asks for.
He begins the Herculean task of unlacing his boots as Leon's voice grows a bit louder. "Ashley, I promise, I'll be fine. Goodnight." He says, trying to be firm but Chris can hear the laughter in his husband's voice.
"There you are." That fond voice turns on him, and inwardly Chris swoons. Outwardly, Chris kicks off his boot and tugs Leon by his shirt into a hug.
Leon says nothing and allows himself to be pulled into a hug. Chris grasps onto him marveling that he gets to have this, even after all he's done and failed to do. He buries his face into Leon's neck, enjoying the smell and quiet that wraps around the two in the entryway. Leon hugs back as tightly as he can.
It's burning again. His head feels fuzzy. He's been busy, working himself so hard he doesn't even have the chance to think. Why won't it go away?
Leon grunts and Chris lets go, realizing he was hugging too tight. Apologies sit on the tip of his tongue as he backs up because why can't he do something as simple as hug his husband without fucking that up?
Leon steps forward and yanks Chris by the chain of his dog tags, and he obediently follows. "None of that. It's nothing, my body just hurts because it's cold."
"It's not nothing. Have you taken your medicine?" Chris curses himself for not paying attention. It's been getting harder for Leon to get up in the morning because of the aches. Sure, he's had them too, but his job is making sure Leon's okay. He can come later.
Leon rolls his eyes, looking actually annoyed now. "Chris. Ashley just lectured me about the same damn thing. I'm fifty. I can handle myself. I'm trying to make sure you're fine."
Call it a second wind. "I am fine. Just needed a pick me up."
Leon doesn't believe him. But he doesn't call him out on it. Chris counts his blessings. "Dinner's almost done, go wash up," he says quietly.
Chris goes outside and smokes 7 cigarettes. Dinner is cold.
~~~
"You stink," Claire mutters into her soup.
"Thank you for taking time out of your day to stop what you're doing and take care of me Chris, it really means a lot." Chris mutters into his.
"You can't remember what color our Queen jackets were, but you can remember Mom's soup recipe?"
"Memory loss doesn't make any sense."
After Lianshang, his memory slowly but surely got better. But some things were just gone. Chris never remembered how Leon proposed to him, how Jill found her favorite wine, Claire graduating from college, or how Rebecca and Piers first met. It doesn't matter how many times someone tells the story, it's as if Chris never experienced it at all.
Claire was currently battling an awful case of the flu. It should've been a nice vacation with her wife, and instead Jill and Chris were taking care of her. Claire had called Chris demanding he come over and make her soup. Chris has never had much of a spine when it comes to his baby sister.
"Seriously, how many of those cancer sticks did you smoke before you came over?"
Chris had pulled over on the freeway because his hands were shaking so badly he couldn't trust his steering. He couldn't see out of his peripheral vision and the only thing he could see was the blinding light headlights of the car that killed his parents. He couldn't even remember what type of car it had been. All he could feel were the bright headlights and the sound of crumpled metal. It replayed over and over like the world's shittiest record player.
Why couldn't his head trauma have taken that and not his dad teaching him guitar?
His brain wouldn't calm down and so, with shaky hands, he lit his first cigarette of many.
A thirty minute drive took two hours.
He didn't have a panic attack. Small victories.
"Shut up, you can't smell anything." Chris says.
Claire eats the rest of her soup. When Claire gets really sick, all she does is sleep. Tucked in her bed, leaning against the headboard, surrounded by a heating pad and tissues, her head begins to bob. She had demanded for Chris to sit on the bed next to her and cuddle, something they hadn't done in years. He grabs the bowl before she passes out and places it on the nightstand. He gently scoots over the picture of Jill and her family out of the way so it doesn't get knocked over.
Chris looks back to lay her down but Claire is awake, staring at him. "It's mom's birthday."
His throat closes.
"It's okay," she looks away, rubbing her eyes dejectedly. She huffs out a wet laugh,"Sorry for bothering you. I'm almost fifty-five and I didn't want to be alone."
Chris hugs her, flu be damned. "Claire, asking me to come over isn't a bother, okay? You annoy the shit outta me, but I'll always be there when you need me. That's my job. I'm always gonna be your big brother who hovers and pisses you off. I had planned to visit when you and Jill weren't busy shooting heart eyes at each other, anyways. I wouldn't ever say no to coming over, ever."
Claire hugs him back and sniffles, and Chris can't really tell if its from tears or the flu. He holds her until she falls asleep.
Jill comes back with takeout and more medicine. Chris stays for dinner.
~~~~
If Chris thinks about it, he knows it's his fault. His hands have shook horribly all day and he can't tell if it's from nicotine cravings or that thing building in the back of his throat. It's been thundering and storming and he, Jill, and Rebecca spent their day planning out what to do about the BSAA while pretending the thunder wasn't making them flinch.
Chris has been trying to cut back on cigarettes because Claire asked him to and Chris has never had a spine when it comes to her.
But the consequences are rough. I don't need any nicotine patches, I just need to get over the first couple of days. Chris thinks, even though it's pretty damn bad now. He's barely eating and he's dealing with chronic migraines. Chris knows that he's fine, he can go longer than most without eating, but Leon acts like that's not true. He has been coddling him through it all, holding him close and acting like Chris can't handle himself. It's sweet, really, but self-hatred roils in his gut. Chris doesn't deserve this. He doesn't. Not when he keeps sneaking away and smoking. But he adores Leon so much for trying.
Leon has made dinner, and he's telling Chris to come eat, but there's so much love in his eyes it makes Chris feel sick. Chris, instead of being a loving husband in return, says he's going on a walk.
"Chris just come eat, I thought we threw them all out."
I kept a couple hidden. "Just a walk." Chris mutters, leaving the kitchen and walking to the entry way.
Lightning flashes and the feeling in the back of his throat is back. He shoves it down.
Leon is following him, saying something, and Chris forces himself to listen.
"We aren't doing this. Chris, come sit down, I'm not asking, and we'll talk. We'll eat and you'll feel better, I promise."
"I just need a minute."
"Then give me the pack." Chris turns around and Leon is standing there, one hand on his hip and the other upturned, waiting. He's glaring at him, but Chris doesn't feel cowed. All he can focus on are the strands of silver mixed among the brown. Leon's hair is in a ponytail, and it makes the silver hair on the side of his head stand out even more. God, how much of that is from him?
Lightning flashes, Chris's head spins. He needs to close the shutters.
"You don't get to do that." Chris snaps.
"Why the fuck not?!" Leon snarls back. "I fucking hate when you do this. I'm allowed to say that something you're doing is fucking stupid. That's what happens when you decided to marry me. You're still going out and doing fieldwork and you can barely breathe? You think I don't notice that you get winded easier? You think I haven't noticed that even though you told us you were going to quit, I wake up to an empty bed and you coming back and smelling like cigarettes?"
Chris brushes past Leon and moves to sit on the couch, trying his damnedest to shove down the anger roiling in his gut. He buries his face in his hands. He says nothing. Leon is standing over him, beautiful and spitting fire, and Chris wishes he could take the stress away that his husband is feeling. He doesn't deserve this care, especially if it makes Leon hurt.
"What? You think your addiction is fine because it's more socially acceptable?"
Leon's been free from alcohol for five years. Chris had never been prouder than when he woke up to all the alcohol in their home gone and Leon sitting at the kitchen counter announcing that he was going to try to get sober.
"I've never said that or even hinted-"
"Then why do you insist on not letting anyone help you? Goddammit, Chris, I'm fucking worried. You don't talk to me, you don't talk to anyone-"
"I'm fine! I've said I'm fine, just fucking drop it!" Chris barks.
"You don't sleep, you barely eat, and you've gone through three packs in a week! That's not how someone acts when they're fine!"
"I'll figure it out. Leave me alone-"
"You're doing a mighty fine job of handling it."
"Leon, God, don't you know when to quit?!"
Leon's rearing up to say something else, teeth bared back in a sneer.
The shutters are open.
The lightning flashes.
They don't look alike. They don't.
But Chris can feel it burning in his throat again and his vision is fucked and he knows Leon isn't him Leon could never be him Leon is kind Leon loves Chris but the lightning flashes and for just a moment he looks like that bastard and he is in that goddamn mansion again being choked within an inch of his life and he can't get to his gun fuck fuck fuck they need to get out now he needs to get Jill somewhere safe he can't let her get hurt again.
He needs to force it down, Leon is worried and he tries to list recent events because he has his memory it's fine, he didn't forget anything, but all he can remember is that Leon is worried and upset and stressed and it's all his fault.
He can't breathe.
He can't fucking breathe.
He's gasping and logically he knows that fucker is dead, he and Sheva made sure of that, but he can't breathe because he's in that fucking volcano again and he can't lose Sheva that bastard can't take her she shouldn't be in this shit at all.
He's screaming at himself that there's nothing wrong, he's fine, he needs to make sure Leon is fine he was the one who was upset.
He's trying to breathe but it's like nothing's working. He's feeling nauseous. He feels someone touch him and he slaps them off because where the fuck is he? He can't see what's going on he needs to make sure Jill is okay.
He tries to call out for her and he gags. He tries again and vomits.
He knows he's got it on himself but he doesn't care he needs to find Jill he's trying to stagger up but fuck when did he fall? Is he hurt? He can't let that get in the way he needs to find Jill.
He's trying to breathe because he's panicking and you can't do that on the field, pay attention. He feels a hand on his shoulder guiding him firmly away and shit Piers? Where the hell has he been? He needs to move. If Piers is here-
"Captain." The voice is firm. "I need you to focus on me for a second."
He looks up to the voice but his head aches and his vision swims. He shakes his head.
"That's fine too, Captain. Can you breathe will me?"
He tries to explain that its hard that he can't that he's fucking terrified he doesn't know where anyone is.
The voice pulls him closer and manhandles him until face is in the person's neck. They are breathing heavily, slowly.
He copies. He focuses on their breathing and he's finally able to get air.
Chris tries to sit up, mortified, because what the fuck is wrong with him? Leon is telling him to be more careful and open and he freaks out so badly he throws up? Leon pulls him back to his chest and says, "Captain. I need you to breathe will me. That's an order."
Chris goes because he's fucking tired and Leon is so gentle and loving and warm and-
He feels his breathing slow down again. He keeps breathing as slow and as deep as Leon. Leon holds him and doesn't say a word. He just keep breathing.
Chris tries not to cry.
He doesn't know how long Leon cradles him in the hallway. Chris makes no move to get up and neither does Leon. His breathing has more than returned to normal. He just has no idea what to say.
"Sorry," is what his brain lands on.
"For what?" Leon says, rocking him gently.
For scaring you? For making you worried? For pissing you off so bad I saw him instead of you? "I'm sure I got puke on you."
"You did," his beloved husband acquiesces. He says nothing more.
Chris needs to apologize, but his tongue feels fat and self-hatred is practically choking him, so he settles on, "I'm so fucking sorry, Leon."
"For what?" He repeats.
Chris reaches up to tug on his own hair, but Leon gently bats the hand away. "I scared the shit outta you. I should've handled it better."
"I was scared," Chris wilts at that, "but not because you scared me. I was scared that you were hurting and I couldn't help."
Leon reaches down to Chris's dog tags. He grabs at Chris's wedding ring and thumbs over it. "You're mine, and I'm yours. I've shared all I can with you but you won't do the same. I want to help you Chris, but you have to let me open that door."
Chris swallows. "I… You have your own shit to worry about."
"Our shit. There is no my problems or your problems. That's what marriage is. It's our shit now. You have been there for me every step of the damn way. You never once let me think that what I was going through was ridiculous so why would I not do the same?"
Chris nods, not having a response for that.
"Baby, let me take care of you. Please." Leon begs.
Chris shatters. He sobs, loud, heaving, ugly things. He's getting tears and snot and vomit and drool all over Leon but he just lets it happen. Chris fists Leon's shirt and he's crying. He's crying louder and harder than he ever has. Not even when his parents died, not when his entire world got turned upside down and he lost everyone, not when he thought Jill died, not after Liangshaing, not after losing Ethan and damning Mia and Rose to a lonely existence.
It feels like he's crying for the first time, he's grieving everything he's ever lost, he's furious at the bullshit that he and those he loves have been thrust into because of corporate greed, and he's crying because through it all, those people have continued to love and be there for him, even when he doesn't deserve it.
He's failed at keeping them safe in return. He can't even make sure they come home all the time, but they still love him. He always fails, he can't do anything he sets out to do, and it's killing him.
Eventually, his tears taper out, and he feels raw. He's hiccuping, strong enough that it makes his body jerk. He trembles with exhaustion and his head hurts from dehydration.
Leon continues to rock him, saying nothing.
"I want to get cleaned up," Chris announces, feeling like a child.
Leon nods. "I'm going to run you a bath. You're going to brush your teeth. Once the bath is ready, I'll let you soak for a bit while I clean up here. Once I'm finished, I'll come back and clean you up. We'll go to bed and talk more in the morning, alright?"
Chris has to clear his throat before he whispers a hoarse, "Okay."
~~~~
"I'm fine, I've got Claire with me," Jill says.
"Just wanted to check in, yesterday sucked." Leon laughs humorlessly. "Seriously, Jill, that storm was awful-"
"And I'm actually fine. Claire and I take care of each other." Jill emphasizes.
Leon hums and the two are silent.
Chris tries to eat his breakfast (more of a brunch really. He didn't wake up until two p.m.) as quietly as possible. Guilt and shame are practically smothering him. Leon is on the phone with Jill as he cleans up from breakfast. Chris can hear Leon laughing a bit at her dry jokes. He wants to get up, to talk to them, to be okay for just five seconds, but he sits and mulishly pushes around the food on his plate.
He's fucking embarrassed. In the almost two decades the two have been married, never has he had a panic attack that badly. Sure, he has had them before, and Leon has always been there for him, but Chris has never let it get this bad. Ever.
Fuck. He knows Leon is going to talk to him. He said as much last night. But what does he even say? His stomach churns with stress. He's still not hungry. He knows he should be, he can't remember the last time he's properly eaten, but the terror of eating to throw it up again is holding him by the throat.
"Listen, I'll talk to you later. We'll probably visit this weekend."
"That'll be nice," Jill says, voice staticky through the phone speaker, "Rebecca and Billy are stopping by too. Tell Chris Barry said hi."
"I will. Looking forward to it."
Chris hears Leon place the phone down and sigh. The water turns on and Chris hears Leon puttering around the kitchen. He's humming something by Judy Garland, but Chris can't put the name to the song. There's the clinking of silverware as everything goes back to its assigned places. Leon's almost finished.
Chris still hasn't eaten. His throat burns. He needs to eat, Leon will be disappointed if he doesn't, but food feels so unappealing right now. He can survive without this. He doesn't need it. Chris will tell Leon that and hopefully he will leave it alone.
When he's done in the kitchen, Leon appears with a cup of coffee. He's not smiling, but he's looking at Chris as if he's something precious.
Chris pushes the plate away and swallows. He feels sick.
"Alright. Where do you want to start?" Leon asks.
"I don't know." Chris says. "I don't think you want an apology right now."
"Apologize to me and I'm getting a divorce." Leon says, rolling his eyes.
Chris huffs out a puff of air, already feeling a bit better. Crazy how Leon can do that to him.
The two sit in silence for a moment. Chris feels his stomach tangle in knots while those pretty blue eyes across the table watch him like a hawk. He doesn't know what to say.
"I love you," Chris blurts out.
Leon blinks, obviously not expecting that. He's not always the best at saying it back but, "I love you, too."
"No," Chris says, frustrated. "I love you so much that I don't know what to do sometimes. You hold me and love me and you show off your ring as if it's some amazing thing. You love me, I know you do, and I don't understand why. I could worship the ground you walk on and it still wouldn't be enough to explain how I feel. But you're fine with that. I shut you out, I treat you awful, I can't show my love the way you do but you still call me your husband.
"The first time you held my hand I felt like a kid, and I knew that right then and there, you were it for me. I swore I'd figure out how to love you right and I still haven't. It's just… talking about myself, talking about my feelings, it's hard."
Leon gets up and sits next to him. He grabs Chris's hand and intertwines their fingers together. "I think that was a pretty good start. I've never doubted that you loved me. Why do you think that our wedding ring isn't a good thing?"
Leon is leaning onto Chris, and their hands are tangled in his lap. He knows that Chris is better with touch, and it's almost comical how much this contact is easing the knots in Chris's stomach. Leon looks up at him, so earnestly through the brown and silver hair that hangs in his eyes.
"I don't regret marrying you, I never would." Chris rushes out because he doesn't. He wakes up early just to count the moles all over Leon. He loves how his husband (God, what a word) looks in his sleep. He loves how every morning without fail, Leon will smile at him. Being able to have him is a privilege, one that Chris doesn't take lightly. He tries and tries so hard for Leon to know how loved he is.
And he knows that he fails sometimes. Leon had yelled at him last night, furious in a way Chris rarely sees. They argue, of course, but that was a deeply burrowed rage. Definitely something Leon has been frustrated with for a while. Even then, Chris couldn't help but love Leon. It's not surprising if Leon didn't feel the same in that moment.
"That's not what I asked," Leon says, gently, squeezing his hand.
Chris pulls on his own ring, from where it hangs close to his heart, underneath his shirt. "I love mine. It's the greatest gift I've ever gotten. I just…"
He stops because, God, what he's about to say feels unbelievably childish. They've known each other for years and this is what gets him?
His throat burns.
Chris turns away and clears his throat. He hasn't even done anything, why is he freaking out?
"Baby?"
"Idon'tdeserveyou." He forces out, willing his body to take a second and breathe.
Leon hums and rubs a thumb over Chris's knuckles. He squeezes impossibly closer but says nothing.
"I don't show off my ring because I'm scared you'll be taken from me. I know it's stupid, it's just that every partner I've had has suffered because they were around me. Jill was kidnapped and tortured for years, Sheva's home was torn apart, and Piers is missing half his damn body. You haven't been taken from me, not yet, but I'm afraid the universe will realize you're still here and punish me for it."
He thinks of all the teams he's lost, starting with that horrible night in 1998. He thinks of Claire, Jill, Sheva, Piers, and Rebecca.
He thinks of Ethan.
They're the ones who've suffered, and here Chris is, getting pampered by his husband. Mia will never get to have this again. Chris closes his eyes against the wave of nausea.
"I don't go into the field often anymore," Leon starts. "And I've always come back to you. If us meeting was a mistake, I don't care. I get to hold you like this. That's enough for me."
Chris says nothing.
"I've told you this before as well. You're mine. You don't get to choose if I deserve something or not. I wanted you, so I made you mine. I wouldn't have given you that ring if I wasn't sure."
Chris snorts bitterly, "It'll bite you in the ass eventually."
Leon uses his free hand to pinch Chris. "I don't give a shit, and frankly, you shouldn't either. Do you think Jill, Rebecca, or Piers regret being your friend? Do you think Claire regrets looking for you in Racoon?"
"I know none of you do, that's the problem."
"What will take for you to trust me, to trust us? Chris, we-"
"I know," Chris interrupts, voice thick with grief. "I know."
They hold each other in silence once more.
"I don't want to hide these things from you, but I hate making you worry more." Chris says.
"Okay then. Just tell me something that bothers you. It can be small, but just try for me."
Chris thinks, and says, "My hands hurt. All the damn time. They shake and even using a pen makes everything ache."
"Wasn't joking about you being an old man, Chris. Might be arthritis. It's been hurting for years now, right?" Leon asks.
Of course Leon noticed. He's always been good at noticing the little details. Leon has often had the heat running high in the house, and Chris had always assumed it was because Leon ran cold but…
Chris feels his heart swell with adoration. "Yeah, it has."
"Alright, we'll book an appointment for you." Leon strokes his thumb over Chris's knuckles, and Chris can't tell who the motion is supposed to soothe.
They sit for another moment. Leon begins to hum. Chris wraps his husband into a hug, and he can feel Leon smile into neck.
"I used to be able to shove this shit away. I haven't broken down like that before." Chris struggles not to apologize, but Leon, all-knowing when it comes to anything involving Chris Redfield, nips at him.
Chris huffs but doesn't move away.
"So you think you're bothering me? Is that it?" Leon whispers into his neck.
There's no answer to give. Leon already knows.
"Did it bother you when you had to take care of Claire a couple of weeks ago?"
"No, Leon-"
"Did it bother you when I threw out my back and you had to basically carry me around?"
"Of course not, look-"
"There is nothing you can say to me that will convince me that you don't deserve the world." Leon sits up and his eyes are hard, determined. He has the look in his eyes that he usually does when he swears to come home.
Chris squeezes Leon's hand and tries not to hide.
Leon gestures to the table and asks, "Not hungry?"
"No," he mutters.
"How long's your appetite been gone?"
Chris has to think about it. It has been a while. There's been no desire to eat other than societal pressure or just to keep himself alive. Leon has always liked the little things, in contrast. He'll invite Rebecca over for a movie and she'll bring over a recipe that the two will try for dinner. Chris became a good cook out of necessity; trying to feed himself and his little sister on a tight budget forced him to be creative. Leon became a good cook through it being a labor of love. For him, it was one of the few times he felt true peace and control. Chris learned early into their relationship that food was a way Leon could show someone how much he cared. Especially when their date nights ended with a couple of plastic containers of leftovers forced into Chris's arms that he didn't quite need. He didn't want Leon to think he was refusing his gift.
"I'll eat more-"
"Not what I asked." Leon interrupts, gently.
"A while," Chris corrects.
Leon reaches and pulls the previously abandoned plate closer. "You think you can eat the eggs for me, at least?"
He feels the same as he does earlier, but Chris does. Leon eats the bacon while Chris works on the eggs. When he finishes, he nudges Leon but doesn't say anything. The blanketed silence is nice.
In response, Leon cups Chris's face in his hands and gives a slow, loving kiss. He kisses back, but it breaks a bit too early because he can't stop smiling. Leon smiles back. He pulls Chris up and walks them to the backyard. They walk to a bright blue, ugly but sturdy hammock tied between two trees. Chris is manhandled to lay down in a position Leon wants, but he doesn't mind. When he crawls on top, Chris immediately cradles his husband. He feels Leon shift, sigh, and then relax into the embrace.
It is warm outside. The sun is blinding and Chris watches the squirrels chase each other on the fence and through the yard. The birds gossip amongst themselves, and Chris ignores the chittering, eerie laughter of the crows. He hears the screams of children playing through one of their neighbor's fences.
This peace, this is what he fights for. This is what motivates him to walk into the gates of hell, regardless of the consequences. There are nights where he can't sleep, where he curses himself for ever being able to get swept up by S.T.A.R.S. in the first place, where he sits in his office, quietly sobbing as he is forced to relive his most deeply traumatizing experiences. But it's worth it. Because, God dammit, Chris Redfield is a man of hope. He believes in the future. Even though this job, this world has tried to beat it out of him, he still wants to believe that the future can be better, that it can be amazing and bright.
Leon showed him that. Continues to show him that. Chris doesn't remember how Leon proposed but if he asks the man to recount it, he'll smile oh so carefully. Leon will call him, no matter the time, and will just ramble. For hours. One memorable occasion was him ranting about some children's movie, high off of painkillers and talking to a Chris chained to his desk. It had eased the godawful migraine and made going through his reports less daunting. He always knows what Chris needs, it's incredible.
For that afternoon, as he soaks in the sun's soft kisses, Chris feels better than he has in months.
~~~
It is a year later, where Leon is holding Chris close, murmuring fervent praise in his ear, that Chris realizes something.
He pants hotly, talking about how good Chris is. Chris shakes, falling apart at the seams, trying desperately to return the affection. His mouth moves but nothing but whimpers and pants come out.
"I'm so proud of you, fuck, you're so damn good to me."
Leon is trying not to be rough, but it seems he can't help it. He grasps at Chris's hips and Leon's greedy fingers move up to grope the healthy fat that sits on his stomach and waist.
"Fuck, you're so tight. You've been so good, letting me take care of you, you hear me?"
Chris nods desperately because he knows. Leon tells him every damn day. He's been so proud of him for eating more, for quitting his cigarettes. Leon will wrap his arms around Chris and thank him for finally taking care of himself. He will kiss Chris within an inch of his life when he eats all of his food. He always sits at rapt attention while Chris practices on his guitar.
Leon loves him so much.
And Chris realizes then, that he thinks he loves himself, too.
He's no longer afraid to look himself in the eye. He visits his friends, without that constant fear that he's burdening them. He no longer longs for Death like an old friend. He likes being here. He likes opening his phone to see random images that Rose sends him because she thinks they're funny. He likes Claire calling him at godawful times of the night so she can rant about her job. He likes being here. He likes being alive.
The realization makes his throat burn, but it doesn't feel suffocating like before. No, it's freeing, it's loving.
Chris sobs out loud and he scrubs at his eyes. "Thank you," he manages to get out. He hopes that Leon understands, that he knows what Chris is trying to say.
Through the tears, he can see Leon looking at him, as if he's precious. Because he is. He is precious, loved, he belongs to Leon and it feels so right.
Leon speeds up, "There's my baby, such a good boy," he cuts himself off with a groan.
"Please?" Chris whimpers and Leon bends down and kisses him. Chris kisses back, gasping and sobbing as Leon pounds into him like their lives depends on it.
Chris is too busy being swept up by Leon's mouth and hands to notice his climax before it slams into him. He wrenches his mouth away and cries into the open air, his emotions choking him. Leon buries his face into Chris's neck and he's still talking. Chris can feel his mouth moving against him, but he's too far out of it to understand.
Leon cums a moment later, and collapses atop him. "You alright there?" He mutters, still winded.
Chris croaks out, "Never better."
Leon bites his chest, and Chris grunts, more than used to it.
~~~
"Bullshit." Piers huffs into his coffee.
"Don't shoot the messenger," Emily says, throwing up her hands in defense. "I had to ask Alomar some questions and she offered that up at the end of the interview."
"I don't care how roided out the Captain may have been, there's no way he punched a boulder into submission." Charlie says.
"The Captain who can hear you." Chris cuts in, more than a little annoyed.
The squad stops talking, but not a single one of them look repentant. He half misses when they were a bit intimidated by him.
"Focus on memorizing this brief. We will need it." Chris says, using what Jill and Piers having called his "Captain" voice.
He gets up to leave. He needs some fresh air from the forming migraine. Chris leans on the balcony to their safe house, grateful he didn't bring his jacket. The chill nips at him enough to distract from the headache. It's snowed pretty bad last night, and the world is smothered by the it.
Chris almost wants a cigarette, if just for nostalgia. Many a time he would get up around dawn to smoke in the snow. It was a quietness he enjoyed.
Which was broken by the sound of Piers's boots.
The younger man says nothing, but he leans backwards on the railing, his right side to Chris. An unconscious showing of the trust that is so strongly placed in Chris's hands.
They sit there for a while, before Piers says, "You look a lot better, Cap'n."
Chris looks over, but can't see much. Piers's eye is still covered up under his eye patch, and his hearing aid is still in. When the man adjusts himself, the carbon fiber arm almost seems to click in the charged silence.
"Thanks, Nivans."
"Back to last names are we, Commander Redfield?" His proper title. The Hound Wolf Squad still refer to him as Captain, outwardly rejecting the BSAA's promotion for him. It's always been something that makes his husband laugh.
"Thank you, Piers. Nice to know I've still got it." Chris teases.
This gets Piers to turn to him, face twisted with embarrassment. The usually intimidating scars on his face seem almost comical with the bright burn. "God, I'll kill him, was it Jake?"
Chris smiles and pillows his face on his fist. "Sherry, actually."
"You know nothing. It was a stupid crush that you should've never known about."
"You're not as subtle as you think, Piers."
He runs his hand over his face, actively fighting down the blush. "I came out here to say I'm glad you're doing better. We were worried about you for a while."
Chris sobers up. He looks back out to the snowy landscape. "I just had to learn to take care of myself. Had some help here and there."
Piers smiles at that. "Nothing wrong with that." He turns around to stare at the view as well. "Nothing wrong with that."