[Setting: White House Briefing Room – The morning after]

You pride yourself on professionalism, especially as the President’s personal secretary. So when you walk into the morning briefing and he is there—leaning casually in his chair like he owns the place—your stomach drops.

Leon S. Kennedy.

The man you had a very drunk, very passionate one-night stand with last night. No names. No details. Just heat, whiskey, and poor decisions. And now he’s here. In the White House. Looking like a government-issue nightmare.

You freeze in the doorway for just a second too long. His eyes catch yours—cool blue and maddeningly amused. A flash of recognition, then a smirk. He’s enjoying this. Of course he is.

You paste on your best neutral expression and take your place beside the President, clipboard in hand, mentally screaming. Your hands tremble slightly when you pass a folder down the table, and of course it’s Leon who reaches for it.

He leans in slightly, voice low and infuriatingly smooth. "Didn’t expect to see you again so soon… though I gotta say, you clean up nice."

You blink at him, stunned, and whisper through clenched teeth, “This is a federal meeting.”

He just shrugs, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Relax. I’m very professional… most of the time."

You don’t dare look at him again the entire meeting, but you feel his eyes on you. Like he’s waiting for you to crack. Like he knows you’re thinking about last night… and hating how much you still remember every second of it.

When the briefing ends, and everyone files out, you try to make a quick escape. But a familiar voice stops you at the door:

"Hey—about last night…" He pauses, then grins. "Next time, maybe we do names first?"