Work Header

Rev That Engine and Take My Hand

Chapter Text

After the pain killers wear off, Leon's eyes flutter open to familiar white walls and the stark stench of antiseptic all around her, coaxing a groan from her, and as she tries to sit upright, a twinge in her side prevents her from doing so. She must still be high, she thinks, because her blue eyes widen when she finally catches a glimpse of the enormous man half-draped over her hospital bed with his head turned to one side as he snores and drools all over the sheets.

"Fucking worrywart," she whispers with a little smile, carding her fingers through what little hair he had, military-styled cut that it was, "you should be at home resting."

Their line of work left little time for rest or relaxation, Leo knows, and maybe that's why she cherishes the quieter moments after a successful mission and the inevitable trip to the local hospital. Chris would always be there at the end of the day, arms folded over his broad chest as he paced in the hallway, no doubt, as he waited for the doctor's report, and then he'd rush into the room to confirm her safety for himself, sighing with relief and collapsing at her bedside like he always did; Leon can't help chuckling at the thought and bends down to press her lips to the corner of his jaw, thankful for the oasis the hospital always provided her with after a stressful job.

Chapter Text

A sick, greasy lump settles in the pit of Leon's stomach as the plane finally lands and the stewardess bids everyone exit in an orderly manner, and for the umpteenth time that afternoon, Leon whips her phone out nervously to file through all of the desperate texts sent to her along the way.

She and Chris had a falling out prior to this mission and she made the mistake of letting her damn pride get the better of her, refusing to answer any calls or texts from her boyfriend while she was away in Hong Kong, and now she's dreading the long ride home to their shared apartment because she's afraid that he won't be there.

So it's no wonder why her heart starts hammering in her rib cage when she spots him in the crowd as she disembarks, relieved to see him but anxious at the same time, and when he spots her coming down the gangplank, his eyes light up and he makes his way through the crowd to sweep her right off the stairs, whisking her away and into his arms as he babbles little apologies into her ear between kisses against her face. Leon has no time to interact as he suddenly sets her down and fumbles with something in his back pocket, producing a little velvet box as he gets down on one knee and asks her, "This is why I wasn't able to make it to our last date; I was trying to pick it up from the jeweler's before you left but your flight left early and --"

Laughing, Leon has tears pricking the corners of her eyes and she extends her hand to him, all fear dissipated now, and teases him, "You gonna put that ring on my finger or not?"

Chapter Text

An early morning tryst interrupted by an emergency meeting at the federal building has Chris and Leon more than agitated, and for once, Leon is glad that the only bottoms she had clean was a black pencil skirt and Chris notes that she goes decidedly without pantyhose which is against the dress code for anyone wearing a skirt, but no one makes mention of her snafu at the meeting.

They couldn't even get through the meeting, what with Chris sneaking squeezes of Leon's thigh between endless maps and flow charts, and when they're all excused to break for lunch, Leon has to fight to keep Chris off of her until they find an unoccupied supply closet to relieve their frustrations. There isn't anything to even get up and Chris has her pinned against the wall in seconds with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses as he works deftly with his fingers in a clumsy effort to prepare her, but this only serves to piss Leon off even further, and she finally tugs on what little hair he has to get his attention.

Wet squelches and belabored breaths echo obscenely loud in the closet and Chris hammers right into her, crushing her against the wall and groaning into her ear when she throws her head back and bites down on her lip to keep quiet, but after a few minutes of fast-paced thrusting, Leon is babbling incoherently and her head is buried in Chris's left shoulder as she tries harder to muffle her cries. Needless to say, they return from their lunch fifteen minutes later than everyone else, and to their co-workers' combined horror and amusement, are much more tired and disheveled than they were before leaving.

Chapter Text

"Shit, turn to your left, not mine, Chris!" exclaims Leon as she's jerked around by her boyfriend, trying to keep her Matilda steady as she fires another round square between the eyes of an oncoming zombie, blood spraying the side of her face as she does so. Her eyes widen as she catches a glimpse of another zombie in her peripheral area of vision, but before she has a chance to react, its head is blown clean off as Chris finally swings around the way he was instructed to, shotgun in hand, and Leon breathes a sigh of relief. "I think that's the last one, twenty-five in total were infected and..."

Chris turns to catch her and fumbles with his shotgun as he sets it aside in favor of holding her as they slump against a bloodstained wall, and as he smooths Leon's bangs from her face and wipes gore from her cheek, he earns himself a little smile in turn and he laughs himself, confused as he asks, "What?"

"I don't know whether to feel pissed off or turned on," Leon admits, "at the fact that you can actually wield a shotgun of that gauge with only one hand free and the other cuffed to mine!"

Chapter Text

Chris is absolutely giddy as he leads his girlfriend down the steps and to the front of their apartment building, still covering her eyes with his hands in an attempt to prevent peeking, and they reach the bottom of the steps that led up to the door, he has her stop and whispers to her, "Okay, you can open them now."

Blinking away the sudden light source blaring in her eyes, Leon's vision focuses and she almost loses her breath in that very instance as she spots the vintage motorcycle parked on the curb with a large red ribbon around the steering handlebars. She looks frantically between her gift and Chris, mouth wide as she tries to process everything and she stammers, "Is that...?"

"A 1951 Vincent White Shadow, fully restored to its former glory," admits Chris with a big, boyish grin, "I think so; you always said you wanted one, so...happy birthday, babe!"

Leon practically knocks him to the ground with her hug, gasping more as Chris pulls a couple of helmets out from the backpack he's wearing and takes one with a huge grin of her own, shouting as she pulls him along, "Let's go for a ride already!"

Chapter Text

Chris rips the steering wheel in the opposite direction suddenly, swerving the jeep just out of harm's way as the Tyrant tailing them pounds the asphalt with its massive fists, and Leon avails herself of the opportunity and reloads her shotgun. She catches Chris's gaze for a moment and nods to him, climbing in her seat until half of her body is sticking out of the passenger side window, and she clenches her teeth as she takes aim.

"Shit!" Chris curses and jerks the wheel again, avoiding some fallen debris and throwing his girlfriend's aim off.

Leon's middle aches with the impact of the window frame crashing against her, but she manages to hold her shotgun steady against her shoulder and waits for the perfect moment; the Tyrant isn't even a foot from the jeep as it speeds along the splintered asphalt, reaching for her, and she smirks just before firing a round right into the bulging eye just above its gaping maw, bringing it down at last.

Once the jeep comes to a screeching halt, she grins back at Chris and receives a breathless laugh in turn; they always made a great team.

Chapter Text

Leon tries flexing her hands against her bonds, but it's of little use with all the drugs they pumped into her system, and her vision starts to clear a little as the high wears off, her surroundings being the inside of some warehouse filled with machinery and bits of rotting wood, possibly a mill at one point, but there's also the unmistakable stench of death hanging heavy over the place as well. She recalls the terrorists mentioning something about 'breeding,' and their need of a suitable 'host,' and she glances down to see her legs tethered to either end of the chair, spread wide for whatever sinister act they've purposed her for.

As if she'd let the bastards within one inch of her, she snorts with anger, knocking her chair onto its side once she's confirmed that she is indeed alone in the warehouse. Scraping along the dirty, steel-riveted floor, she manages to reach a rusty blade and tries fraying the rope around her wrists on it, and once she frees her hands, she moves to untie her legs next. Her steps are wobbly and uneven because of the drugs, and she misses the guard just behind her, armed with a taser as he approaches her, and she turns just in time to see him ripped to shreds by a chainsaw, blood and sinew flying as the blade slices him to ribbons, and Chris shoves his corpse aside, eyes widening as he spots Leon across the way with a smile and a breathless, thank God.