There is a soft knock on Chris's front door. By the time he got there, no stood on the other side, almost ding dong ditch. Just a small package left behind, a box with a bat drawn on the lid. Inside was some fudge cookies, and a small bottle of whiskey. As well as a note. 'Hope you have been well. Try and take it easy now and then. Sincerely, Your Friend Darck'

           What?

   Eyes flutter open with a deep yawn, arms stretched out above his head as bulking form rises from the couch. Chris’ approach to the door is slow and sluggish, body and mind both heavy with sleep. It’d been a much needed nap, lulled into a comfortable afternoon slumber by music playing somewhere in the background. The rapping at his door pulled him back to a wakeful state. At any other time this might have startled him; visitors never coming by unannounced, his address unknown to anyone he did not trust.

   As it is, he is too tired to find any of the energy needed to worry. Even so, he is cautious when opening the door out of habit, the lone package raising suspicion when he sees it sit there on his doorstep. If not for that familiar drawing ( a trademark signature his brain long since learned to trust,) he might not have touched the box at all.

   Shaking the momentary hesitation, he bends to retrieve his gift. A brow rises as he gazes at the goodies quizzically, shaking his head with a soft sigh and a light smile. The box gets tucked away under his arm so he can read the note as he steps back inside, the smile that had already began to show itself growing, easing away some of the tired lines that were so firmly etched onto his features nowadays. He appreciates it more than he can say.

“You really thought alcohol was a good gift?”Don’t worry, he’s lightheartedly mocking.

cityguilt:

HE’S been  held  up  for  longer  than  he  thought.  A  common  thing  to  experience  when  working  in  a  department  like  this.  Sometimes  you  had  to  file  in  countless  reports  on  even  the  dumbest  of  things.  And  sometimes,  there  was  always  going  to  be  that  one  superior  that  will  always  bust  your  balls  about  the  damnedest  of  things.  He  could  understand  it.  He  doesn’t  complain  for  reasons  like  this  one.  A  momentary  escape  with  someone  he  felt  he  could  confide  in.  And  it’s  why  he’s  practically  speed  walking  out  of  the  building  to  catch  up  with  Chris,  who’s  patiently  waiting  just  outside  the  doors.

“Watch  it  Redfield.  I  know  i’m  late,  you  don’t  have  to  remind  me.  Thanks  for  waiting  anyway.”  Such  snark  is  returned  in  just  fashion.  Leon  and  his  ever  quick  wit,  always  ready  to  bite  back.  It  feels  good  to  encounter  someone  else  on  his  level.  Though,  that  clap  might  have  knocked  some  of  the  air  right  out  of  his  chest.  Not  that  he  displays  it.  With  only  a  thick  swallow  he’s  taken  stride  at  Chris’  side.  

“Could  go  for  a  burger,  maybe.  Stop  by  a  nice  joint.  Sound  good  to  you – ?”

    Don’t worry, he gets it. Reports and paperwork are the worst kind of shit to deal with, especially on slow days. No idea how the other departments handle it, but there’s only so often they’ll let you check and clean up your equipment before that fat stack of papers has gotta be handed in. It’s time to shove those thoughts to the back of both their minds. There’s not going to be a place for work in their plans tonight, whatever those plans end up being. Please let there be beer.

    “You bet! I can totally go for some greasy fast food right about now. Rebecca’s been pestering me about eating healthier. She’s been watching me like a hawk during lunch all week.” The older smiles; touched by the fretting though he can definitely do without it. Chris subtly slows his pace to put have Leon lead as silent invitation to take them to wherever it is he deems the best spot to eat.

    “I’m thinking they’ve lost whatever faith they had in me being capable of making healthy decisions, after the energy drink incident.”

@cityguilt  STARTER

    Chris stands at the foot of the staircase leading up the entrance of the RCPD. Hands shoved deep in the pockets of leather jacket, ( the pin-up angel decorating the back staring up at entrance above) purposely breathing out just hard enough to mist the cold evening air. It’s a familiar sight, to see Redfield waiting out on the steps. Though his companion for this evening won’t be Jill, as is usually the case.

    No one enters the building at this hour, and few of those who remain seem to leave. The wait’s long enough that he has to fight the urge to reach for one of two remaining cigarettes stored in an inside pocket — he’s promised too many people he’d kick the habit. It really isn’t worth it. So he leans back against cool stone with a sharp exhale, casting a look back as doors open and a familiar figure walks out. About time.

    “You took your sweet time escaping the department, Kennedy. I should have you buy us our first round for making me wait so long.” Jovial tone and grin are indication that he’s joking. It’s clear he’s feeling far from annoyed or irritated, pulling a hand free from his pocket to clap the younger on the shoulder, pushing him along down the street for a couple steps before letting his arm drop back to his side.

            “What’cha craving?”

hello can i interest u in some fresh chris/leon ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ