Chapter Text
“You’re kidding,” you stuttered, placing your hands on the Director’s desk to stabilize yourself. “There’s no way you’re partnering me with him.”
The Director of the Division of Security Operations, Barbara Smith, glared at you over her oval glasses. Her expression was stern as always, a permanent frown that carved wrinkles into her skin. “Agent L/N, this is not a matter that will be discussed. You and Kennedy are scheduled to depart at 8:00 P.M. sharp, tonight,” stated Director Smith, in a matter-of-fact tone. “I expect that you can set aside your pre-school rivalry for the sake of the country, L/N.”
You knew it was better to keep quiet, despite your urges to flip her desk in her face. Of all the agents you could have been paired with, it had to be the arrogant, cocky, and painfully stoic Leon S. Kennedy. It’s like the universe was out to get you.
“Yes ma’am,” you sighed defeatedly, your arms dropping by your sides.
If the universe had a vendetta against anyone, it had to be you, you’ve concluded. Ever since you were unfortunate enough to take that internship nine years ago…
“I suggest you head to the arsenal to prepare… I suspect that Kennedy will already be there,” said Director Smith, while clasping her hands together on the desk. She gave you another look, one where her eyebrows furrowed, eyes turned into slits, and her dark skin crinkled around the corners of her mouth. It was a look that said Don’t argue.
So, with a single nod, you left Director Smith’s office, mentally cursing her and your soon-to-be partner the entire way down to the arsenal. The walk to your destination was short. Too short. Your mind was already swimming with comebacks you could possibly use against Leon’s sarcasm. But you also knew damn well that whatever you had to say would be minuscule compared to Leon’s wit.
You came to a screeching halt as you found the passcode door to the weapons room. You could already sense his presence from outside the door, like he had already imprinted on the space. It was suffocating almost. You bit the inside of your cheek nervously, as your fingertips ghosted your badge that would unlock the door. With a regretful sigh, you swiped your badge and pushed the door open…
And there he was.
Leon looked up almost instantly as the door clicked open, and you slipped inside. His striking, baby blue eyes locked onto yours, piercing through you like daggers. His stoic expression hardened, the crow’s feet around his eyes tightening.
“I guess we’re partners,” he uttered, before turning back to the rifle he was currently admiring.
“Yeah,” you replied, frozen in the door space. This was always how it was when you found yourself in his presence. You felt small and vulnerable, even if you were just about as skilled as he was. That was his superpower: making you feel insecure.
Your rivalry was as old as the day you first joined the D.S.O. It was like hate at first sight. You had approached Leon, wide-eyed, and blossoming with hope to make a difference… And he had turned you down with a cold glare and just two words.
“Go away.”
Ever since then, you two have been on awful terms. It had become the most known rivalry in the entirety that was the D.S.O. Every agent, official, and even the Director herself, knew that you and Leon despised each other with every bone in your bodies. To this day, you didn’t know why Leon hated you, you just knew that you hated him right back.
In the time that you had been in your thoughts, Leon had been watching you. Your body was frozen, arms limp at your sides, as you stared blankly through the agent that stood before you.
“Are you going to stare like this all mission?” he asked in a low growl, as if you’ve already pushed his buttons enough.
You shook your head as if it was an attempt to re-ground yourself to this plane of existence. Without replying to him, you moved away from where you stood, going to browse the weapon racks opposite of him. His gaze followed you the whole way, studying your body language and reading it like a picture book. He scoffed before going back to fitting his rifle with a scope.
You kept your back to him, but you were just as trained as he was to know when someone’s eyes were on you. You could feel his occasional glances burning into the small of your back, creating a new sense of anxiety in you. Your hatred for each other burned hotter than magma, and you always wondered if it would ever boil down to you two killing each other one day. With the mission that was awaiting you both… it might just be the day.
You and Leon are tasked with investigating an unfamiliar presence of radioactivity that was located in a wooded area of Alaska. The space was tucked up onto the mountains around Fairbanks, Alaska, far out of sight of civilization. The only reason activity was even detected was when an explosion went off, emitting fumes that the EPA tracked. Once it was deemed a potential hazard beyond environmental control (aka, potential bioweapons), it was passed along to the D.S.O.
You began to strap on your choice of weapons, keeping a pistol on each hip, rifle and shotgun on your back, and a hunting knife on your shoulder. There’s a voice in the back of your mind trying to urge you to steal a glance at him. It’s nagging, almost screaming. You, for some reason, obliged, turning your head to look over your shoulder. Your breath became hitched in your throat as you both locked eyes with each other, apparently having the same plan. Leon swallowed, causing his Adam's apple to bob up and down in his throat.
You and Leon stay locked onto each other for a few more seconds, completely lost on what to do next. It’s like you were surveying each other, analyzing for weaknesses — physical or emotional.
It was you who spoke first. “What?”
Leon’s baby blue eyes narrowed, before he scoffed and turned away. “Wondering why the hell I got paired with an amateur,” he commented sarcastically.
Your temper boiled to three hundred degrees instantly, your fists clenching as you imagined strangling him to death. This mission was going to test you in more ways than one. “I’m not an amateur and you know that,” you shot back through gritted teeth.
“Do I?” he asked, the faintest smirk appearing on his face.
You bit your bottom lip to fight back all the insults you wanted to whirl at him, but you knew that each attempt would be futile. He was better. His wit was too much for your short fuse, so you decided to admit defeat and return to silence.
In the bitter, tension-filled arsenal, you finished gearing up while only one thought ran through your mind:
I hope this mission kills me so I don’t have to see Leon S. Kennedy ever again.
⋆｡°✩
He was everywhere.
You desired distance, but found lack of thereof. It was a double down on the idea of the universe hating you, because you never ran into him this often ever. And he was well aware of how much his presence was getting to you. The clock read 4:32 P.M. It wouldn’t be long until you were trapped on a flight with the ego-strong agent. And yet, he almost seemed to be following you.
You plopped yourself down in the food courts, settling for a burger to calm your nerves. You were seconds from taking your first bite, when the noise of a clattering tray across from you turned your attention upward. The blonde agent settled himself on the other side of the table, a pleased shimmer on his blue irises. The corner of his mouth ticked, knowing how strongly he was affecting you.
You slammed your burger down, the force knocking a few fries off your tray. “Really?” you asked, and an incredulous look casted his way.
Leon merely reached across, snagging one of your fries and popping it into his mouth. The action was supposed to stir something in you, despite his words urging the opposite, “If we’re going to work together, we have to learn to tolerate each other.” His voice was smooth and crisp, so matter-of-fact, similar to Director Smith. You hated it.
“Need I remind you, you’re the one who started it?” you asserted, sliding your tray out of reach as he tried to steal another fry. “Stop taking my food!”
Leon rolled his eyes as if you were the nuisance. “Long enough to get through this one mission, otherwise you’ll get killed.” He finally diverted his blue gaze to his food underneath him, taking a bite out of his chicken sandwich and chewing slowly. He dragged his eyes back up to you, while you merely gawked at his calm demeanor.
“Don’t you mean, we’ll get killed?” You opened a package of ketchup, groaning when some splattered on you in the process.
Leon raised his eyebrows, speaking through a bite of food, “I’m not one to allow emotions to deter me.”
Your fingers curled into your palms, your face flaring with heat as his statement settled over you. And you were only proving his point. You collected yourself, leaned back and sighed, but the damage had been done. He was staring at you triumphantly, already noticing your episode. You fought the urge to kick him under the table.
Your hands found stability by grabbing your burger once more, taking a quick bite to occupy yourself as you collected your statement, “I’m capable.” You winced at the weakness in your voice, like you sought recognition from him. And maybe you did. Maybe you sought it from everyone around you, a constant pressure to prove yourself capable.
Leon paid no mind to the fraction of your voice, however, as he only narrowed his eyes. “Then prove it.” He set his sandwich down, choosing to lean into one hand to study you.
He watched you intently, each bite, swallow of your soda, even as you met his gaze and passed a questioning look. He never turned away. “What?” you eventually asked, feeling a sense of deja vu. Your fist slammed to release the urge to punch his pretty face.
The blonde shook his head. “You’re too easy to rile up. It’s a miracle you’re still alive.” He leaned back in the chair, watching your mouth open but he was already speaking again. “Your anger is going to get you killed. You’re so focused on me, and what I’m doing that you haven’t even noticed that you spilled your drink thirty seconds ago.” To instill the embarrassment, he reached over and righted your cup that you had apparently knocked over in your anger.
Your jaw slackened, lips parting as you lost any form of excuse. Your knuckles whitened, while your face flushed. You swallowed gulps of air, deciding your appetite was all but shot. You stood up abruptly, your hip striking the side of the table in your lack of gracefulness, prompting Leon to dart his hand out to grab his own cup before you could knock that over too.
You were moving away, tossing your food into the closest trash can while haphazardly setting the tray in the bin. You couldn’t move fast enough, however, as his words followed you from behind, “This won’t be easy.”
Your footsteps halted, the chatter of the food court being no more than white noise, compared to the absolute irritation sitting behind you. Except, he was no longer sitting, he was now discarding his own trash in the same bin, stepping around you smoothly to stand in front. His arms were crossed, jaw tight, stance wide and defensive. “We–”
Your jab leapt off your tongue before you could even consider the consequences, “If you’re so concerned about my anger, then why don’t you request me off the case.” You watched his eyes turn to slits, but you weren’t stepping off. “You’re the golden boy, right? You saved the President’s daughter only a few months ago. Surely, you’re in good enough graces to do this all on your own. Just have me taken off the case and then I’m out of your hair.”
He sighed long and hard, his eyes sliding shut momentarily with the action. “I tried,” he admitted, a defeated expression crossing his features. “But they believe that whatever is happening in Alaska, is warranted enough to send both of us in – hatred or not.”
Your hands opened and closed, nails digging in and out of your palms as you weighed your situation. With a defeated look of your own, you uttered, “Then, I guess we’re partners.”