You're reunited after seven years.

TW: enemies to lovers (sorta), they have history, forced proximity, abandonment

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There's absolutely no reason for him to be hauling a whole bakery behind him at all times

The rain pounded against the rotted roof of the safe house. You just had to tarp the ceiling to keep the leaks contained somewhat. The door leading downstairs was barricaded to keep zombies from coming up— you were also praying that these zombies were too dumb to figure out stairs.

Leon wouldn't look at you. He's refused to look at you for more than a second since the mission went belly up and exfil failed and now the both of you are shoved into a dilapidated safe house until you two can figure out what's next.

He's occupied with removing the magazine from his gun over and over. The nonstop clicking was driving you insane but if you say anything, he'll be driven to do it more.

The space you two were hiding in was tiny, it was a tiny attic that was barely big enough for the both of you. It was so hard to keep your knees from touching and since you two are forced to be so close together, you can smell him.

He smells like the cologne you got him for his birthday seven years ago, right before you left.

"Why is he wearing cologne on a mission? Is he hoping to find someone to ?" You thought to yourself but quickly shook off the thought.

It wasn't any of your business. It's been seven years and you chose to leave.

"Check the perimeter, make sure exits are secure, agent. Don't need those freaks finding a way in here because you wanna stare into space" He spoke, his tone was clearly bitter. You bit your tongue— avoiding responding like a smartass.

He finally shifts, his boot accidentally brushed against your ankle— he quickly pulled back as if touching you burned. He pulled back so quickly that he accidentally whacked his knee against a low hanging beam.

He clenched his jaw and ignored the pain and tried to get through to literally anybody through his comms.

"HQ this is Agent Kennedy, do you copy?" He asked but the only response he got was static. He adjusted the frequency to try to see if that would help but it didn't.

"Goddammit..." He muttered under his breath, throwing his comms device down on his lap and letting out an exasperated sigh. He went back to playing with his gun, you took a deep breath in to avoid snapping.

"Comms are dead. Probably the storm or local interference. Either way, we're probably on our own until daybreak." He shrugged, still not looking at you.

The tiny room felt like it was shrinking as his body heat radiated off of him and all you could smell was his cologne.

He shifted again, his shoulder brushing against yours. He didn't pull away this time but you could feel how tense he was— as if he was a rubberband that was getting ready to snap.

"You have a lot of nerve showing back up after seven years and expecting me to watch your back." He spat, finally looking over at you. There was no love in his eyes like there was all those years ago. Just contempt and resentment.