Chapter Text
I was there for you in your darkest times
I was there for you in your darkest night
But I wonder, where were you
When I was at my worst, down on my knees?
And you said you had my back
So I wonder, where were you
When all the roads you took came back to me?
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2026 Spring
Krauser parked his pickup truck beneath the apartment building he rented near the base. He slid the key into the lock, turned it with a soft click, and pushed the door open, tossing his heavy duffel bag onto the floor of the entryway with a dull thud.
As he reached back to close the door and flick on the light, a sudden prickle of awareness stopped him cold. Someone was inside.
His massive frame moved like a stealthy big cat, silent and deadly, hunting for the kill. In the pitch-black living room, he advanced without a sound, eyes locked on the lone silhouette standing with its back to him.
The intruder didn’t turn around. Instead, a calm, familiar voice drifted through the darkness.
“I remember you saying a knife is always faster than a gun.”
A reluctant smile tugged at Krauser’s lips. He slowly lowered his hand from his holster, muscles relaxing. “What’s this? Got yourself a promotion and now you’re here to lecture me?”
“I’m not that cocky,” Leon replied, his voice carrying a trace of weary amusement as he finally turned around.
The years had not been kind. Leon’s once-youthful face was now etched with deep lines of fatigue and hardship. His blue eyes, once bright with stubborn hope, looked dull and shadowed. Whatever had happened during their long separation had clearly taken its toll.
God knows what had happened to him in all the years they’d been out of contact.
“We need to talk,” Leon said quietly.
Krauser let out a low, humorless chuckle. “We haven’t had anything in common for years. What the hell is there left to talk about?”
Leon didn’t answer immediately. He reached into his leather jacket pocket and pulled out a slightly creased photograph, holding it up between two fingers.
“Something you sent from Spain,” he said, his tone flat. “To your ‘special boy.’”
Leon’s lips twisted into a bitter half-smile. “Didn’t know I was that special….”
Krauser’s expression darkened, perhaps a sign of guilt. He couldn't utter a word; nothing escaped his throat, and his lips trembled on their own.
Leon continue to pressed him further, “You better start explaining what the fuck this is. Last Christmas you sent me this photo from Spain with the words ‘I’m waiting for you, special boy.’ What the hell were you thinking?”
Leon exhaled sharply, his gaze dropping for a moment before flicking back up. “You know, Krauser… I really thought you were straight as hell. I didn’t realize you were into that kind of gay shit.”
“I’m not!” Krauser snapped immediately, his jaw tightening.
Leon raised an eyebrow, a faint bitter smirk playing on his lips. “We fucked in bootcamp, Krauser. That’s pretty fucking gay.”
“You’re always such a whining little bitch,” Krauser growled, stepping closer, his broad shoulders tense. “That’s why I had to put you in your place back then.”
Even as he spoke, Krauser’s denial rang hollow.
“You owe me an apology for breaking into my fucking house like you own it,” Krauser said, voice low and dangerous.
Leon stared at him in disbelief, momentarily speechless, before shaking his head.
“Stop dodging the subject, Krauser,” he said firmly, crossing his arms. “You don’t explain this to me, and I’m not leaving.”
Krauser let out a long, exhausted sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. The fatigue from weeks of overseas training was still heavy in his bones.
“I lost a bet, alright?” he admitted gruffly. “It was supposed to be a joke. This was just me fulfilling my end of it. Happy now?”
They had gone their separate ways after bootcamp with barely any contact since. The silence between them had stretched for years.
“It’s been so long,” Krauser muttered, turning slightly away. “Why are you still hung up on this? I moved on.”
He paused, then suddenly turned back, his voice dropping into something raw and frustrated.
“Or what? You wanted me to admit I’ve been losing my mind thinking about fucking you? That I wanted to bend you over and fuck you senseless until I couldn’t think straight?”
A flush crept from Krauser’s ears down to his neck. Embarrassed by his own blunt words, he turned sharply toward the kitchen, twisting the faucet on with more force than necessary. He filled a glass with cold water and drank it down in several large gulps, trying to cool the heat rising under his skin.
Leon watched him quietly, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“So you finally told the truth"
Krauser stayed silent, gripping the edge of the sink, "Then, what the fuck you want?!" .
Leon took a slow step closer, his voice low and challenging. “So… do you want to fuck me right now?”
Krauser closed his eyes for a moment, the exhaustion from two straight weeks of posting to provide intense close-quarters combat training for the elit unit in the Germany weighing heavily on him. He had no energy left for this.
“No,” he answered flatly.
Leon continued to push him further, refusing to back down. His eyes glistened with something between defiance and hurt. A bitter, crooked smile, soaked with self-degradation, twitched at the corner of his mouth. A faint tremor crept across his jaw, and he pressed his lower lip into a thin line before speaking to overcome the overwhelming emotions.
"Am I not pretty enough anymore? So you won't fuck me anymore?"
...Still, the slight crack in his voice gave it all away. He cared. He cared about Krauser's reply. Whether Krauser still thought he was pretty or not. He fucking cared about everything. Despite pretending not to.
Leon never knew when to shut up.
“Fuck you, Leon,” Krauser snarled, turning to face him fully, irritation flashing across his rugged features, he still in the state of avoidance, he refused to answer. “Cut this crap. Get the hell out of my house before I throw you out myself.”
Leon didn't move. Didn't even blink. Instead, he tilted his head slightly with a soft, almost weary motion, looking straight into Krauser's icy-blue eyes—cold as steel. He held that gaze, unflinching and unwavering, and refused to be the first to break.
“Then fuck me,” he said, voice steady and deliberate. “I really mean it.”
Krauser let out a low, guttural growl that rumbled up from deep in his chest, with the sound of pure hunger, long-starved and finally breaking free. Leon was driving him fucking insane. The way he pressed, the way he pushed, the way he toyed with him using nothing but words… it was too much.
His hand shot out, fisting the collar of Leon’s shirt until the fabric twisted tight around his knuckles. With a brutal shove, he slammed Leon back against the fridge. The impact rang out with a loud, metallic clang that rattled the bottles inside.
Leon’s breath exploded out of him. The jolt ripped through his spine and skull, but instead of pain, a searing electric thrill surged through his veins.
He hadn’t felt this alive in years…Being manhandled, thrown around by a man this strong.
The pain hit like a purge. It reached into his chest and tore out every buried sorrow, every gnawing trauma that had haunted him since Raccoon City. It reminded him he wasn’t just a walking corpse. His blood still ran hot. He could still feel.
And the sheer weight of Krauser pinning him there, chest heaving, breath hot and ragged, it was intoxicating. Leon’s lips twitched into something between a gasp and a wicked grin.
Krauser’s jaw clenched so hard it ached as he loomed over him. He had denied this for so long. Buried it deep under duty, control, and the cold weight of survival. But Leon kept pushing. Kept testing the leash. And now Krauser was painfully hard, his cock throbbing with a need he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years.
Leon had dug it all back up, with every reckless step forward, every look that screamed he wanted to be devoured.
And Krauser was starving.
He leaned in closer, trapping Leon between the cold steel of the fridge and the scorching heat of his body. The faint, bitter scent of whiskey still clung to Leon’s hair, his skin, his lips.
Krauser inhaled deeply, slow and deliberate, the sound almost feral. Leon’s scent, whiskey-tinged, reckless, and dangerously addictive.
“You smell like a fucking slut now, Kennedy.”
Leon’s lips curved into a slow, provocative smile, something almost proud flickering across his face.
“Thanks to you,” he murmured, stepping even closer. “and.. You sure know I fucking love it ROUGH when it's from you.”
"Tch, what can you expect from a Grunt, of course I'm rough" Krauser bit Leon's shoulder as he pounded him into the sofa in the living room, He hated how much he enjoyed this argument-fueled, hate-laced sex .It was hot. It was messy. It was undeniably theirs.
Leon’s head tipped back against the cushions, eyes half-lidded, a broken gasp tearing from his throat as Krauser’s hips snapped forward.
He loved how real Krauser was, a living, breathing man of flesh and blood, warm-blooded and full of raw vitality.
It brought him back to bootcamp.
Back when the world was simpler. When pain had a purpose. When Krauser was just his superior. He was just a young and dumb rookie.