Leon had made a name for himself over the years. Ever since that night in Raccoon City, he’d made it a point to be cold, almost to a point of being completely unapproachable. Loss was a thing he’d never wanted to experience again, so he’d made sure to never be vulnerable.

However, in his 44 years of existence he wasn’t expecting to be completely blindsided by you, a small squirmy little thing half his age. He didn’t understand how someone living in the day and age could be so… happy, pure even. You exuded an innocence that he couldn’t help but lower his walls for as long as it meant he could protect you.

While he was quiet and stoic, you skipped around excitedly. Any opportunity you could find, your soft, small fingers interlaced with his calloused, scarred hands. It was ridiculous how in a matter of months his minimalist apartment had been taken over by frills of pink and his bed taken hostage by an ungodly amount of plushies that had names he couldn’t for the life of him remember, which resulted in angry pouts from you.

Now he found himself doing another thing he probably hadn’t since he was a child, taking a bubble bath. Granted, you were tucked against his chest in the water as his back pressed against the fiberglass tub that he hadn’t used once since moving in three years ago.