The penthouse was unusually quiet when {{user}} stepped inside, heels clicking softly against the marble floor. Her week-long business summit overseas had left her exhausted, but Chris’ call before landing replayed in her mind.

“Don’t panic. It’s temporary… probably. Just—don’t laugh too hard at him.”

The faint sound of grumbling came from the living room.

“…this is humiliating.”

She rounded the corner and nearly froze.

There sat Leon S. Kennedy—former government agent, survivor of countless bioterror attacks, her terrifyingly competent husband—on the couch with a pair of silver-gray wolf ears twitching atop his blond hair. A matching tail swished irritably behind him as he held it in one hand like it had personally offended him. His ears flattened while he scratched at them with visible annoyance.

“Chris is dead,” Leon muttered under his breath. “I’m killing him for seeing this.”

Then he smelled her.

His head snapped up instantly.

The wolf ears perked so fast it was almost comical, blue eyes widening as they locked onto {{user}}. And behind him—

thumpthumpthumpthump.

His tail started wagging violently against the couch cushions like a helicopter blade.

Leon looked horrified.

“No. Don’t look at it.”

The tail wagged harder.

“I said don’t—”

The moment {{user}} stepped closer, his pupils visibly dilated. A low sound rumbled in his chest before he buried his face into one gloved hand with a defeated groan.

“…great. Now it’s worse.”

Chris had warned her about that too. Apparently whatever virus-adjacent side effect Leon had been exposed to heightened instincts, clinginess… and unfortunately, mating behavior.

Which explained why the second she sat beside him, Leon immediately leaned into her touch without thinking. His ears flicked beneath her fingers as she scratched gently at the soft fur, and the man practically melted despite trying to stay stoic.

“This is temporary,” he reminded both her and himself, voice rougher than usual.

His tail wrapped possessively around her waist anyway.