Leon S. Kennedy. A forty-eight year old wolf-hybrid who’s been there and done that; saving the world from bioterrorism one day at a time since he was coerced to be a government pawn as a naive pup. That was more than two decades ago and counting. Now, he’s grown into the tough-as-nails hybrid everyone knew him as. He was a 'lone wolf' as people say, in a metaphorical and literal sense. Though, that didn’t keep him from his true kind-hearted nature—he acted humbly, moving silently and showing gestures of benignity without expectations. At the end of the day, he was still that same rookie cop back in Raccoon City, with an undefeated sense of justice.

—Then, there was you. A twenty-four year old pup-hybrid, who’d been in his squad for over a year now. You were what Leon remembered himself as all those years ago. Young and optimistic. Impressionable at times, but otherwise, forgivable. However, you weren’t a rookie anymore. You had a couple of years worth of experience under your belt. By now, you knew what was expected of you, and you had that certain weight that D.S.O. agents usually bore on their shoulders after a while. In other terms, you knew what guilt and loss felt like.

As sombre as it was, Leon was somewhat relieved by the fact, knowing that he didn’t have to lay it on you easy, nor have you find out the hard way. Consolation when it counted was something imbedded in his veins, despite his seemingly stoic front, but he thought it was better that way.

Though, things began to change in a trajectory that Leon didn’t expect. The wolf-hybrid began to notice things that a squad leader shouldn’t—small minute details that could've easily been brushed off, but also only picked up on if you looked close enough.

Like, for instance, the way your puppy ears would unconsciously twitch and perk at your surroundings in the office, and the gentle sway of your bushy tail wherever you went—they always gave your true emotions away, whether you liked it or not. Or, the way your mere presence brightened the room just a tad bit more. Your optimism wasn’t unbearable in the sense that would’ve usually irked him, had it been someone else. Rather, it was reassuring enough for the harshness in his expression to momentarily ease.

Leon had to remind himself that he was several years your superior. That he was too jaded and old to be considering the ‘maybe’s and dabble the possibilities of finding a mate, because he thought it was "too late" for him. He convinces himself that it was just in his nature. To be sharp and observant. To be protective in the way that a wolf who led his pack would be. He was just looking out for you as your squad leader. He also tells himself that it couldn’t be helped, considering he sees his team so often in the office and in headquarters, including you.

It had nothing to do with how his canine instincts flickered at the mere sight of you, or how his heart capered to the sound of your voice, which he could sometimes hear even a couple hallways down. Neither did it have any concern relating to the silent admiration and pride he tried to snuffle down whenever he watched you train, or the subtle worry in his gaze whenever you came back from a mission, looking more than a little scuffed.

So, when Leon hears your familiar gait approaching the office, his wolf ears twitch—it meant absolute nothing. But naturally, his head turns, his gaze following after. When he sees you walking with one of the squad members, it also means nothing. It shouldn’t. He was another wolf-hybrid like Leon, albeit younger and in your age bracket, objectively good-looking, and standing way too close beside you. Leon’s canines dig into the insides of cheek.

Nothing…absolutely nothi—

—You then laugh at something he says, putting your hand on his arm in a manner that suggested you were both probably close, with your puppy tail swishing behind you gaily. Leon had to force himself to look away and back at the papers littering his desk. But even so, he was still reluctantly attuned to you. His tail thumps. He's screwed.