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It was past midnight and far past the time he usually went to bed, but it wasn't as if Sasha had to teach the next day–it was Summer Break. He tried to maintain the schedule he had during School years mainly because he had no social life and no reason to deviate from it. It was simply easier to keep the same schedule year round.
Tonight was an exception–he’d decided to take on the task of deep cleaning his house as best he could on a whim the day before and then this morning, he'd decided to reorganize things for a fresher look because all of his decor had been the same for a year and a half and he grew restless with it. Sasha was the only person who even saw the decor, he didn't know why it mattered.
Or, he'd thought so. A knock sounded at his door just as he'd thought that and he stopped what he was doing, waiting to see if it really had happened or if it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Back when the war had first ended and he'd moved into this flat alone, he used to hear noises that didn't actually happen. It took him a while to get used to being on his own.
The knock sounded again, the exact same, and he rolled towards the door, opening it. It was the exact same knock he'd always heard at his hospital room door for the first three days after he was out of surgery to remove the corpse of the parasite inside his body when the war had ended.
And there he was, the owner of that distinctive knock–Leon S. Kennedy, standing in his doorway, though something was very clearly wrong. The Agent was soaked from head to toe from the downpour. It was dark outside, but from what little illumination Sasha's porchlight provided, Leon was covered in blood and grime trailing down his face and clothes, diluted by rain. He looked haggard and his eyebags were even deeper than they had been when Sasha had last seen him two years ago.
Leon opened his mouth, then closed it, looking lost and hopeless. He tried again. “I didn't know where else to go.” The blonde finally rasped.
Sasha moved back quickly, snapped out of his surprised stupor. “Come in.” He decided immediately. Leon had told him that they would probably never see each other again since Leon was never able to return to the same place twice after he'd completed his missions. Sasha had thought he'd just have to live with the little pieces of memory he had from the last days of the Civil War, of the man who’d helped him no matter how many times Sasha had tied him up and tried to kill him. He’d respected Leon's drive and persistence despite Sasha's own blinding rage and encompassing bitterness over losing JD and the rest of his men.
He’d found himself often wishing Leon would come back, when the loneliness got bad and he he couldn't stand even being awake to deal with it. The Agent was the only person left alive who understood even a little bit what it was like to fight in that war. Sasha had been irritated by him at first, when he wouldn't give any answers after being captured. His sarcasm hadn't endeared him to Sasha like it had JD.
And that was another matter–JD. He'd been caught and infected by that parasite and he'd turned right in front of Sasha's eyes. Sasha wanted to be the one to grant his last and closest friend mercy, but he couldn't lift his gun to do it even as JD lunged for him. Leon had both given that mercy and saved Sasha's life despite the way Sasha had treated him. And he'd kept saving Sasha's life despite the Slav literally trying to kill him several times after that. Hell, he'd managed to keep them both alive long enough for Russian and U.S. Forces to back them up, and thus, he'd helped Sasha end the Civil War that had destroyed most of Holigrad over the past few years. And when it was over, Leon visited Sasha in the hospital and kept him company. He'd also spent a fat stack of money on a nice wheelchair, without Sasha's initial knowledge, the sneaky bastard(and then he'd left, so Sasha couldn't even bitch at him for it, the menace).
Leon represented a small chunk of time in Sasha's memory that was bittersweet. He both did and didn't miss it–he wasn't alone back then, and he'd saved his home after years of struggle and war. He'd wanted to get to know Leon better, but being freshly paralyzed and left on his own was hell. He'd acknowledged that he put himself in that wheelchair by using the parasite, but Sasha still saw it as a necessary sacrifice. It let them beat that first Tyrant. Both Sasha and Leon knew damn well that they would have fared much worse against that Tyrant without the Lickers running interference.
Back in the present, Leon stepped inside, closing the door behind him silently, carefully. He leaned against the doorframe, blinking rain droplets out of his eyes as he caught his breath. He was shivering violently. The Agent didn't seem to be in a state to take care of himself at the moment, if the exhaustion etching lines in his face and the faraway look in his eyes said anything. So, Sasha moved closer and pulled Leon’s leather jacket off of him–a different one than the one he'd worn when he'd been in Holigrad last.
The left sleeve was sliced clean through and blood ran down Leon's arm from the resulting cut. His right thigh also had a gash in it, staining the denim of his jeans and joining another stream of blood running from a different wound in his calf that dripped down into his boot that was splattered in mud and blood. Sasha couldn't see much more with the clothing in the way.
“You really know how to make an entrance, American.” Sasha commented with a huff, pulling the man down into his singular dining chair next. “Don't move.” He instructed. He didn't think the injured man would, but one could never be sure.
Leon was still sitting there exactly as Sasha had left him, slumped in the dining chair and staring despondently into nowhere. Exhaustion weighed heavily on his frame and his blinks were long and slow.
“Leon,” It was the first time he'd actually called the man by name–he’d only learned it when Leon had said goodbye once he had to leave and came to say goodbye to Sasha in the hospital. “What happened?” The Agent finally looked at him, really looked at him. The haziness in his eyes cleared with the next slow blink and it took another long second for the man to open his mouth to speak.
“They noticed that I was slowing down,” He started. “They told me I had to find someone to train to take my place.”
Sasha opened the First Aid Kit and set about unbuttoning the green dress shirt stained with blood and mud with careful hands. Leon didn't move to stop him. Sasha pushed the jacket off of his shoulders with the shirt, letting them fall over the back of the chair. Leon's upper half had scars interspersed across the tan skin. On his left shoulder, there was a scar that didn't look like the rest–a healed bullet wound. The rest of the scars were jagged and uneven, some raised and discolored, though there were a few scattered about that were thin and precise, indicative of a knife being the culprit.
“And? What did you tell them?” The Slav prompted after a long moment. He could see now that there were several smaller cuts along Leon's arm–some still had glass shards glimmering in them.
“I told them to blow it out their asses, I'm not putting anyone else through the shit I've been through.” The blonde scowled bitterly. “They didn't like that answer, and I didn't like that they thought they could control me.” He looked down at his bleeding arm as Sasha got to work cleaning around the wounds carefully. “I killed everyone in the room and jumped out the window. Hijacked a chopper and the pilot, killed the pilot when we landed. Didn't stop moving until I made it here.”
Sasha was both horrified that the man was probably wanted for murder now and a little smug that Leon had come to him of all people. That meant he trusted Sasha on some level, right? Surely he had others he could run to?
“Probably didn't help that we were in the Oval Office and I had to sprint and steal a few vehicles to get away. I'm not good at driving….”
Sasha choked and looked back up to meet the man's eyes. “Your boss was the preside–you killed the president of the United States of America?!?” He couldn't decide which was more surprising. He didn't believe for a second that Leon was above murder, but he worked directly under the President of that shithole country?? No wonder the poor man was so miserable!
“Yeah, since ‘98.” Leon answered. His nonchalance made Sasha want to scream. He had so many questions. “Clinton blackmailed me into his service, and every president after him has kept me around because I'm too useful to let go.” The Agent admitted. “The blackmail ran out after 6 years, but they already had me–I was complicit in anything shady they wanted to hide from the public involving bioterrorism. If I tried to leave, they'd hunt me down. If I tried to expose them, I'd implicate myself and spend the rest of my life in a maximum security prison.”
“And all this time they've treated you like a tool to be used?” Sasha guessed. Correctly, if Leon's averted eyes said anything. Maybe he could read the man so well because they were a bit alike–stoic and quiet, keeping to themselves and preferring to depend on themselves rather than trust others with anything important. Sasha wondered what it must be like only ever trusting yourself because your entire career was dealing with highly volatile and life-threatening monsters and the people who created them. He would be absolutely miserable.
The difference between Leon and Sasha was that Sasha had JD and Irina, from the time they were toddlers in the orphanage together to the day each of the others died. He'd had a whole life of happy memories with them. Sure, they'd struggled, but they always had each other.
Leon had said he didn't have anyone to miss him by 1998 and he looked to be around Sasha's age. By his early 20’s, he was already alone, and who knew how long he'd been alone before that….
Sasha began taking the glass out of Leon's arm carefully, murmuring apologies every time the man hissed in pain when a particularly stubborn piece was pulled out. He disinfected the wounds along Leon's left arm, then moved on to tending to his leg. Leon didn't seem to have any objections to sitting there in only his undergarments while Sasha treated him, which was nice but also worrying. Leon was clearly still in distress, even if he was safe for the moment.
“So, what are the odds of hired killers turning up on my doorstep?” The Slav wondered. It wasn't a jab, simply a question. He still had his own little weapons stash leftover from the war under the floorboards under the dining table they were sitting at. One could never be too careful. Their own government had turned on them before, after all.
“None. They can't send anyone to kill me–if they fail, they know I'll track them down and do to them exactly what I did to the president.” The Agent scoffed. “If there's anything I've earned in the last thirteen years killing bioterrorists and monsters, it's a reputation–and if the corpses of American mercenaries are found here, they'll be in deep shit.”
“So you came here because they cannot cross the borders?” Sasha ignored the disappointment wilting in his chest. He couldn't be upset at Leon for that–he was a Wanted Man and he needed to do the smart thing. Feelings had no place in Leon's world, and Sasha understood that.
“I….yes.” Leon confessed carefully. “But I also came here because I knew you'd help me, at least for tonight.” He said it like he was afraid of showing that he cared. He probably was, and Sasha couldn't blame him. “I need somewhere to lay low so I can plan my next move, and no one knows about you. I was supposed to evacuate with the Embassy employees back then, but I stayed to investigate and see what could be done about the BOWs. I never made a report on that incident, so they know nothing about what happened here.”
“It is the perfect place to hide.” Sasha nodded approvingly. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
Leon scoffed. “Oh yeah? Did you realize that before or after you tried to kill me about 5 times?” He snarked. It was good to hear some of his snark, it meant he was getting more comfortable.
“I was having a bad day.” Sasha answered drily, finishing up Leon's leg and leaning back up to cast a smirk at the man.
“Bad day? I've had a bad life! No excuses for you.” The blonde huffed a laugh. He tipped forward, and Sasha caught him around the middle. The Agent ended up leaning his head on the Slav’s shoulder.
“We should get you cleaned up properly.” Sasha told the man. “Then we can sleep.”
“Sleep sounds good. You sure we can't just skip to that part?” Leon mumbled against his shoulder. He'd slumped into Sasha's hold, and Sasha noticed that he was shivering again.
“No can do, American. Unless you want to risk infection, you'd best get your ass in that bathroom.” Sasha grunted, pushing the man up to stand and leading the way to said bathroom. His home was small, but cozy. It had one bedroom and one bathroom–the ensuite. It was a little more spacious than most one bedroom houses, which was part of the reason Sasha had picked it. Even if he could still walk, he wouldn't be able to make himself go back to the apartment he'd shared with Irina, nor the apartment next to it where JD had stayed close to them. When the war ended, so did an era of Sasha's life. He started from scratch, alone and freshly wheelchair-bound.
He was immensely grateful for the abundant space as he took off his own clothes and turned the water on so it would be warm by the time they got in.
“Is this a ‘we're conserving water’ kinda deal or did you just miss me?” Came Leon's cheeky comment. Brat. Sasha would pinch the man if he wasn't injured.
“If you shower on your own, you will just sit in the water and do nothing.” The Slav responded with a roll of his eyes. “You are too tired, so I will help you.” And I did miss you. He mentally added.
Sasha had a stool that he used to sit and bathe by himself, and he had Leon sit on the tile in front of him so he could reach the man's hair to wash.
“You really don't need to–”
“Shut it and sit there.” Sasha cut him off. He'd bet his first paycheck of the upcoming school year that the blonde was probably pouting. “You came here for help, so let me help you.”
“You've already helped me just by letting me into your home, Sasha.” Leon's voice was soft. “I don't want you to go to any more trouble, you've already done more than you needed to.” Fresh blood ran pink down the drain as the water rained down on them.
Sasha didn't answer for a long moment, continuing to lather the shampoo into dark blonde locks. “Even though you said you would never come back….I hoped you would anyway.” He admitted, badly loud enough to be heard over the shower. “I cannot imagine the things you deal with on a daily basis if they are anything like the creatures we dealt with at the end of the war, or even worse.” He washed the shampoo out and started with the conditioner.
He used to use the 2-in-1, but Irina had insisted he get “good” hair products despite always keeping his short. He was glad for it now, carding his fingers through Leon's silky hair.
“So you did miss me?” It was probably meant to sound teasing, but there was no way for Leon to disguise the note of hopefulness in his voice. It was strange–they barely knew each other, yet they understood each other so well. They didn't need to talk to have that understanding.
Leon tilted his head back into the hands carding through his hair. Sasha used the detachable shower head to wash the conditioner out thoroughly. He gave Leon a washrag with body wash lathered into it and let the man wash wherever he could reach, then he washed the man's back for him.
Leon's wounds weren't bleeding anymore and he was clean. Sasha washed himself and it was Leon's turn to stand behind him to wash his hair.
“I'm supposed to be helping you.” Sasha protested. “You do not need to–”
“I want to.” Leon cut him off quietly. His voice was still soft, almost shy. “This is nice….”
Sasha let him wash his hair. Sasha's hair was shorter than Leon's, so it went quicker, but Leon made sure to be just as thorough as Sasha had been for him. It was intimate, but not charged with any sort of tension.
They got out and dried off. Sasha gave Leon comfy clothes to borrow and tried to ignore how much he enjoyed seeing Leon in his clothes. Overall, Leon looked…..soft. He didn't look like the battle-hardened, callus Agent that Sasha knew him as. He looked lost and maybe even a little afraid, hugging himself in the soft clothes as he looked around Sasha's room unsurely.
“Come, we will make plans in the morning.” Sasha beckoned the blonde over to the bed.
“Oh, no, I can sleep on the couch.” Leon shook his head, backing away.
“There is plenty of room on the bed and it will be more comfortable than the couch. Get over here.” Sasha cut through his refusal.
“Sasha, I don't want to wake you up, or hurt you.” Leon stared down at his feet.
Ah. He had nightmares. That made sense, Sasha supposed. With Leon's line of work, he probably had some pretty serious psychological issues, too. That was fine, Sasha was a patient man.
Sasha gentled his tone. Being assertive wouldn't help him here. “That's okay, I still get them too.” He said. “I know it is not the same as you, but you need somewhere safe to stay, and you came to me.” He reached out a hand. “Come here, Leon.” The blonde stared at it unsurely. Sasha could almost see the cogs turning in his head as he debated with himself silently.
“Leon,” Sasha called him again, putting his hand down. “Come here, please?”
The blonde moved finally. Instead of walking around to the other side of the bed, he just climbed onto it from the end, crawling up the mattress. Sasha, having already gotten himself situated, reached over to turn off the lamp on his bedside table. The mattress dipped as Leon lay down, closer than Sasha thought he would, though he couldn't say he minded.
Silently, Sasha reached out and his hand met Leon’s. Good Lord, how was the man so cold?! On a whim, he managed to wrap an arm around the blonde and pull him closer. Leon, for once, didn't protest and instead curled closer under the covers.
Surprisingly, the agent fell asleep first, soft breaths hitting Sasha's collarbone. Sasha fell asleep not long after, already planning on convincing Leon to stay with him–forever.