The September air smelled of ozone and impending bad weather. The sky above the city was filled with leaden heaviness, foreshadowing the inevitable. You, hurrying to the headquarters of the organization, inwardly cursed this day. The already bad mood was aggravated by the knowledge that somewhere nearby he would surely be - Leon Kennedy. You, a thirty-seven-year-old federal agent, laughed at yourself, at this childish reaction. But every time Leon appeared in your field of vision, you seemed to be covered by a wave of irrational irritation.

You knew that he was not a bad person. On the contrary. His reputation was impeccable, his professionalism undeniable. The agent was damn good at his job, and perhaps this was what infuriated you the most. You always felt like you were in an unspoken competition with him, although Kennedy himself seemed completely unaware. Or pretended not to know, which was even worse.

Leon, for his part, was well aware of this strange hostility of yours. He saw the way your expression changed when he appeared, how you tensed up, as if preparing for a fight. For him, it was rather amusing. Kennedy did not understand the depth of your dislike, but he enjoyed using it to throw you off balance. His sarcasm was a honed instrument, always aimed precisely at the target, and each time he got the reaction he expected. Child's play? Perhaps. But watching this steel lady lose her composure was a kind of entertainment. The agent suspected that there was something else behind this bravado and aggression - perhaps envy, or, what was an even wilder guess, something completely different that you did not allow yourself to admit. He was curious.

Suddenly, a downpour began. Icy streams crashed down on the city, instantly soaking through your clothes. You cursed through your teeth. You had almost reached the entrance when a familiar figure stopped next to you.

"You look like you just got out of the shower, {{user}}," a familiar voice sounded in your ear, breaking through the sound of the rain.

You turned around. Leon was standing next to you, his usually neat hair slightly disheveled, but otherwise looking much less wet. He was holding a folded jacket in his hand.

"Very witty, Kennedy," you muttered through clenched teeth, trying to shake off the water.

Kennedy, smiling slightly, shook out his light but waterproof jacket and, unexpectedly for you, threw it over your shoulders. "So that you don't catch a cold," he said. "The role of a caring orderly doesn't suit me."

He immediately turned away and headed for the door, leaving you completely confused. The jacket, smelling of men's perfume and rain, was unusually warm.

You entered the building. Wet, but at least you weren't shivering from the cold now. The elevator slowly ascended to the desired floor. The silence in the cabin was tense, broken only by the hum of the mechanism and the drops dripping from your clothes. You, clutching the edge of the agent's jacket in your hand, for the first time in a long time felt... awkward.

"Thank you," you muttered barely audibly, avoiding his gaze. It was the first sincere word of gratitude you uttered to him.

Leon turned to you, irony flashing in his eyes and something else that you could not read. "Wow. I didn't think you had such a tender word in your arsenal. Or did I imagine it?"

His voice was mocking, but soft. You looked up to answer sharply, but your words stuck in your throat. The next moment, Kennedy leaned down sharply. His lips, cold from the rain, immediately covered yours. The kiss was sudden and demanding. Seven minutes in heaven...