Work Text:
"Is this your laboratory?"
Leon was examining the gloomy room that had long served Luis as a shelter, not just for work, with curiosity. He hid his rapidly growing guilt here — and the deadly dangerous creations. Luis made a lot of mistakes. But only recently did he make a decision he did not regret: to trust the American agent.
Luis had promised him the serum. Leon had not promised him anything, but obediently followed him into the depths of another Umbrella hideout, which were spread all around the world like a swarm of cockroaches. Luis winced at the thought of insects.
"Was once," he said belatedly and shook his grown-out hair, pushing the thoughts out of his mind. They were here not for him to fall into the abyss of his own shitty decisions and memories. "They obviously weren’t worried about my ficus."
Poor Jose had successfully croaked. Why did Luis even dragged it here — was a mystery even to himself.
Leon grunted quietly. Something inside Luis stirred pleasantly, as it did every time he managed to make the Yankee laugh. He wanted to say something, to lighten the mood and to hear that low, gentle laughter again, the laughter that so rarely pierced the tense silence of the catacombs. But Luis remained silent. Just reached for another cigarette.
"And where’s this serum?"
With him. It had always been with him, as were the most important researches. In this bloody dump, nothing useful was left, Luis packed everything up as soon as he realized the shit hit the fan. He lied to someone once again, though this time there was no reason for it. Perhaps he got so used to lying that he started doing it for no reason. Or perhaps he just wanted to take a last look at the place where he managed to forget, at least for a while, what a shitty person he was.
Luis walked up to the work table and pretended he was looking for something. It could be possible to distract the Yankee’s attention and slip the serum into the drawer unnoticed — this way, he wouldn’t need to look for yet more useless excuses. But damned Kennedy was not so easy to fool. After all, they hadn’t entrusted him with the rescue of the president’s daughter for no reason.
"It’s not here."
He appeared silently right behind Luis’ back, blocking his escape. Luis swallowed and hunched over the drawer even more. The excuses had run out long ago, besides, he didn’t want to come up with any — only a universal exhaustion pressed harder on his shoulders.
Luis was ready for anything: a push, a blow to the head, or well-deserved indignant cries, after all — but certainly not for a delicate touch to his neck. Luis froze, afraid to move. He waited for the Yankee himself to explain it.
"You could just say," said Leon quietly, gently massaging his tensed neck. "Could say you wanted to come here. Without making up any reasons."
"We need to look for Ashley," Luis spoke, mellowing under the calloused fingers. "You would say it’s a priority, and you would be right."
"I would," Leon agreed. "But I can understand the longing for the bygone."
Finally, Luis turned to him. The blue eyes were always veiled with the harshness of life, and he never asked about anything — it was none of his business, and Leon wouldn’t tell him anyway — but now there was something else. Musty, unspoken pain splashed in there, and that pain stretched to Luis’ very heart, tying their very different lives together. Luis didn’t know what Leon went through, just as Leon didn’t know the details of Luis’ miserable life, — but something drew them together like a magnet and bound them for good. So different. So similar. All people carried some pain within, secretly holding onto a bleeding side — some were bleeding more, some less. But it was the mountain-lake-colored eyes that made him feel that he was not alone.
Luis hastily averted his stare and took a cigarette out of the pack. He wrapped his lips around it, trying to strike fire from an old lighter with fumbling fingers, but his hands didn’t cooperate. A couple of centimeters from him, Leon towered like a block — an iceberg, patiently waiting for its Titanic.
What a weird analogy.
"You hinder, Yankee," Luis said lightly, almost dropping the cigarette from his mouth. "Move over."
The height difference was not so critical for him to look up to him, but Luis wanted to shrink in half out of awkwardness, just to hide. From Leon. From his own desires.
Finally, the saving light lit up, and Luis drew in with delight, feeling a surge of confidence. He looked right into the motionless eyes and already felt a little less like a hunted doe.
Leon moved even closer. Luis blew the smoke right in his face in surprise. The agent grimaced.
"You should quit that shit," for the second time Luis was lectured about the dangers of smoking. While he was thinking how stupid the worry about his lungs sounded in their situation, Leon leaned his hands on the table, trapping Luis. And now lung cancer definitely went on the back burner.
Luis saw his lips with the corner of his eyes. They were slightly wet, with a little bleeding wound in the right corner. Luis glanced up and managed to discern a scar on the right cheekbone — as if carved from marble. No dirt from their dungeon tour could spoil the face of Apollo. Nothing could make Luis stop thinking about what they taste like.
Suddenly, Leon reached for Luis’ hand and slowly took the cigarette from the weakened fingers. And then he drew in so theatrically, so tantalizingly, that Luis’ mouth went dry. Leon looked at him from under long lashes, smiled, and blew the smoke right into his face.
Unpleasant, indeed.
"No kick," stated Leon and quickly ran his tongue over his lips. Luis swallowed. "It’s not even relaxing. What a difference whisky makes."
"So, you have a sin after all?" Luis asked playfully, feeling relieved. It meant that the mascot of the American dream was not so perfect. He might even be human.
"We are all sinners," Leon said in a low voice, handing the cigarette back to Luis. He drew in deeply and found the inviting lips.
Leon sat him on the table easily, as if Luis weighed nothing — it was even a bit offensive. But it’s hard to hold a grudge against somebody who’s devouring your mouth with such zeal.
Now they were bound also by the cigarette, the smoke of which they shared.
Luis wrapped his hands around the powerful neck, and his hips around the belt with a holster and God knows what else, he didn’t ask. He shivered at the touch of the big palm to his shoulder blades and pressed himself closer to Leon, as he asked to. Luis’ body lived its own life, trying to take as much as possible, to know as much as possible, and to show with all the vividness: "I want you from the very first second."
Leon squeezed his hair slightly, and Luis sighed loudly, encouraging any initiative. The Yankee appeared to be very passionate and assertive, Luis was even pleasantly surprised. He thought Kennedy was the type who runs away from any sprinkle of attention and immediately heads home after work. It seemed like Leon didn’t realize how handsome he was, literally a prince from a fairytale. Or he did, but for some reason chose not to notice either the fact or the obtrusive flirting Luis honored any more or less attractive face with.
Something more was hidden here.
He almost dissolved into their intimacy, allowing himself, at least for a little while, to forget about all the horrors that haunted him day after day: Leon moved to his jawline and the soft skin right below it, not paying attention to the dirt that covered Luis from head to toe. And Luis would allow him to lick himself clean and would not disdain the attractive body, but they both understood… Understood everything.
Leon leaned back, eyed Luis with an inscrutable gaze, and kissed him again. The cigarette went out long ago (or, perhaps, one of them stubbed it out, who cares); his head was finally empty. If someone asked Luis his name, he wouldn’t answer. But if he were asked about the name of the tall, blue-eyed, blond man…
"That’ll make me quit," Luis said on an exhale, leaning back slightly from the kissed lips. "If you keep distracting me like this."
"Is it a threat or a promise?" Leon licked his lips in satisfaction, and Luis couldn’t resist pressing their lips together again.
"It’s a deal."
"I might just take you up on it."
"Then the illusion of relief would turn into true bliss."
For a second, he thought that Leon was flattered.
"Alright then. But don’t put the cigarettes too far away."