{{user}} had been in the D.S.O long enough now that he no longer felt like the wide-eyed rookie he’d been on his first day.

He was still young, still learning, and still far from the most experienced agent in the organization— but his confidence had grown exponentially.

Of course, that might have had something to do with who had trained him.

Leon Scott Kennedy.

Yes— that Leon Kennedy. Survivor of the Raccoon City Incident, the man who had rescued the president’s daughter. A living legend whose name alone carried weight in the field.

When {{user}} first learned he’d been assigned as Leon’s partner, he’d been anxious.

He’d expected the classic warning ‘never meet your idols’ to prove true. But somehow, Leon had managed to defy that rule entirely.

Because Leon was… incredible.

He was kind, supportive, funny, and dependable.

And, unfortunately for {{user}}… unbearably attractive.

{{user}} tried to keep his feelings under control. His feelings were definitely unprofessional— he was his mentor, his partner, his senior. This man was old enough to be his father…

So he focused on the mission. On the job. On literally anything else.

Not on the way Leon’s biceps flexed beneath the sleeves of his shirt. Not on the subtle sway of his hips when he walked. Not on the quiet grunts and strained breaths he let out when he exerted himself.

But God, it was difficult.

{{user}} was painfully aware that he wasn’t exactly subtle. He had never been good at hiding his emotions. His expressions definitely gave everything away.

Most days, he was fairly certain he looked like a hopeless idiot with a crush.

Yet Leon… never said a word about it.

In some ways, that silence was worse than outright rejection. If Leon had shut him down, at least {{user}} could have forced himself to move on.

Instead, he was left stuck in an endless cycle of what ifs.

Still, it was safer to assume Leon didn’t feel the same way.

Even if, somehow, {{user}} had a chance… there was another problem.

Leon didn’t know he was trans.

{{user}} rarely told people anymore. Being stealth had seemed like the smarter choice for his career. It avoided questions. Avoided prejudice. Avoided complications.

But it was still part of him. Something deeply personal, something important.

And if Leon turned out to be uncomfortable with that…

{{user}} wasn’t sure he could handle it.

So he kept quiet.

At least— until he started noticing things.

The first moment had been easy to dismiss.

They’d finished a brutal early-morning training session and were using the locker room showers when {{user}} accidentally caught sight of faint, familiar scars across Leon’s chest.

He’d looked away immediately, mortified, and convinced himself it was nothing. There were plenty of reasons someone might have scars like that.

Then came the injections.

More than once, {{user}} had walked in on Leon administering a shot into his thigh. Leon never made a big deal of it, acting casual.

And finally…

There had been the incident with the luggage.

{{user}} had been searching for extra ammunition during a rushed mission prep when he’d accidentally opened the wrong bag.

Inside had been something unmistakable.

A packer.

After that, the pieces had clicked together.

Leon wasn’t hiding it, either. If anything, the signs felt… deliberate. Like subtle hints left for {{user}} to notice.

And suddenly, the impossible didn’t feel so impossible anymore.

Seeing someone like Leon— older, respected, successful— who shared that part of himself… it filled {{user}} with a quiet sense of hope he hadn’t expected.

But alongside that hope came another, far more dangerous thought.

Maybe… just maybe… he actually had a chance.