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pinkertinn · 2 months ago

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CleonWeek2024 - Day 1 (key to her heart)

Title: Lovers Summary: Somehow, it's always the last key on the ring that fits. WordCount: 3,000 Cross posted to AO3

Claire stumbled through Leon’s apartment door, cheeks flushed from the cold October air and a little bit of pre-flight whiskey she’d had at the airport bar. It was Halloween night, and she had a layover in town. Naturally, that meant crashing at Leon’s place. She spotted a pumpkin on the kitchen counter, its crooked smile mirroring her mood.

"Leon, seriously?" Claire smirked, kicking off her boots. "A pumpkin? Are you actually getting into the holiday spirit for once?"

Leon, lounging on the couch in sweatpants, lifted a beer bottle in greeting. "I get into the holiday spirit when there’s booze involved. You know that."

Claire made a beeline for the fridge, grabbing a beer to join him. "What, no spooky decorations? You’re slacking, Kennedy."

Claire sank into the couch, the faint flicker of the old Halloween movie barely cutting through their conversation. The low hum of the TV was more of a backdrop now, the real entertainment coming from their laughter. Leon disappeared into the kitchen, and she could hear the soft clatter of dishes and the rustling of bags as he rummaged through the pantry, probably hunting for snacks she hadn’t asked for but absolutely needed.

"Halloween layovers suck," she declared, stretching her legs out and nearly knocking over the coffee table in the process. "You better have something stronger than this beer, Kennedy."

Leon, always a step ahead, reappeared from the kitchen with two shot glasses, a half-empty bottle of whiskey, and a bowl overflowing with candy. He raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh, I got you covered. Whiskey and sugar—because clearly, I know your vices."

Claire’s eyes lit up the second she spotted the whiskey, a grin spreading wide across her face. She bounced up from the couch, doing a little happy dance—arms wiggling, feet tapping like an over-caffeinated kid on Halloween night. “Yes! A man after my own heart!” she exclaimed, reaching out and urgently waving him over. “Get over here!”

She patted the cushion next to her with purpose, eyes gleaming with the kind of excitement only a mix of booze and candy could summon. Leon chuckled, shaking his head but following her orders, placing the candy on the table, the bottle of whiskey already looking like it might not survive the night.

Leon dropped onto the couch beside her, handing her the whiskey bottle with a smirk. “You know, you're a terrible influence,” he teased, shaking his head as she eagerly started pouring shots.

Claire’s eyes flicked to him, already suspicious. “Me? Oh, please,” she scoffed, swirling the bottle dramatically before pouring a shot for him. “You were definitely half-drunk before I even walked through the door.”

Leon feigned offense, putting a hand to his chest. “Half-drunk? Excuse you—I was merely pre-gaming in preparation for your bad influence.”

She laughed, nudging his shoulder. “Yeah, sure. Like you needed an excuse. Next thing you’ll tell me the candy’s for ‘balance.’”

“Gotta maintain my sugar levels,” he shot back, grabbing a handful of candy and popping a piece into his mouth. “It’s called being responsible, Claire.”

She rolled her eyes as they clinked glasses, both knocking back the shots in perfect sync. Claire’s face contorted immediately, like she’d just swallowed a mouthful of molten lava. “Ugh! That’s... terrible,” she wheezed, blinking hard.

Leon wasn’t much better off, letting out a rough cough, his eyes watering as the burn hit his throat. “Oh yeah, real smooth,” he said sarcastically, wiping his mouth. “It’s not like I bought it at a gas station or anything.”

Claire snorted, half-laughing, half-choking on her own lingering burn. “Leon, I swear, you’ve got the taste buds of a raccoon.”

They both collapsed back onto the couch, the sting of the whiskey slowly fading as a warm, tipsy buzz started to kick in, loosening their muscles and their laughter.

As the drinks flowed, the conversation took an absurd turn, as it always did after a few too many.

"You know what’s ridiculous?" Leon started, his words starting to slur just slightly. "We fight bioweapons. Literal, walking-dead, mutated monsters... but you know what still scares the shit out of me?"

Claire leaned in, clearly entertained. "Please, do tell."

"Mannequins," Leon confessed, looking disgusted with himself. "You ever walk into a department store after hours? Horrifying."

Claire doubled over laughing, nearly spilling her beer. "You... you fought a giant man-bat and a walking tank of teeth, but mannequins freak you out?"

“Don’t judge me, Redfield!” Leon shot back, his face flushing as he threw back another shot. “What about you? What scares you, huh?”

Claire wiped a tear from her eye, trying to steady herself as she slammed her shot glass down after powering through another drink. “Oh, easy. Moths. They’re just... wrong. They fly into your face like they’re on some kind of kamikaze mission. I hate ’em.”

Leon’s eyes widened in disbelief. “No way! You too? I thought I was alone in this moth war.”

Claire nodded seriously, though a grin still played on her lips. “Nope. Those little freaks are the real menace. Forget bioweapons.”

Leon blinked, then burst out laughing. “Remember when you punched that zombie guy’s head off?”

“Sure do!” Claire lifted her beer, and they clinked their bottles together with a cheer. “That’s going on my highlight reel,” she beamed proudly.

“Good thing he didn’t have any moths flapping around him,” Leon laughed.

Claire dissolved into hysterics. “They’re just so gross! Also... mirrors at night. I know it’s just my reflection, but what if it suddenly moves differently, you know?”

Leon cackled. “We’re the least rational people on the planet.”

"Don’t forget ladders," Claire added, her face dead serious. "I always feel like I’m going to fall off or… something’s gonna grab my foot."

"You mean like a zombie?" Leon teased, nudging her with his elbow.

Claire shot him a look. "No, Leon. Like a moth."

She watched a fresh burst of laughter escape his lips, her heart swelling at the sight of him laughing so freely. His face was lit up with a rare, infectious joy, his laughter spilling out in uncontrollable bursts. She could see the genuine happiness in his eyes, the kind that made him seem lighter, almost unburdened. As his laughter echoed through the room, Claire found herself laughing too, her own chuckles blending with his. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered joy, and she felt a deep, warm satisfaction in witnessing this side of him—one she’d rarely seen before.

“Okay, what about superstitions?” Leon asked, still chuckling. “Got any of those weird habits?”

Claire downed the rest of her beer. “Well, I always knock on wood, and avoid cracks in the pavement. Is that what you’re talking about?”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “You’ve fought monsters that walked through walls. No offense, but your luck’s already pretty crap. Maybe you should try walking under ladders or breaking some mirrors.”

“Fuck no!” Claire shot back, pointing at him with exaggerated emphasis. “Why tempt fate? I mean, come on!”

Leon shook his head, but he was still laughing. “You’re ridiculous, Redfield.”

“Says the guy who’s scared of mannequins.”

“Hey, I’ve got reasons.”

“Mannequins don’t even move!”

Before Leon could retort, something caught his eye in her bag—a deck of cards. He grabbed it, squinting at the design. "Wait... Tarot cards? Oh Claire, you’ve really gone soft.”

Claire grabbed for them, but Leon held them out of reach, grinning like a man who had just discovered a goldmine of mockery. “Shut up! It’s for therapy.”

Leon howled. “Oh, so fighting zombies wasn’t enough therapy? Now you need cards?”

Claire finally wrestled them back, half-laughing, half-serious. “Listen, it’s supposed to help you talk out your feelings or whatever. You pull a card, and then you, like, think about how it connects to your life. It’s reflective. It’s helpful.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Leon was still snickering. “Sounds like a load of crap.”

“You wanna find out?” Claire held up the deck, her eyes narrowing challengingly. “I’ll do a reading for us.”

Leon leaned back, arms crossed, clearly entertained. “Oh, this I gotta see.”

Claire fumbled with the cards, her coordination already suffering from the whiskey. After shuffling like a drunk magician, she finally flipped a card and stared at it.

“Oh, fuck off.” She started giggling uncontrollably.

Leon leaned in. “What? What is it?”

Claire held up the card with a flourish: “The Lovers.”

Leon blinked, his face going from curious to disbelieving in seconds. “No... way, us? The Lovers?!” He nearly fell off the couch, laughing so hard he had to put his beer down.

“I can’t—” Claire gasped, grabbing her phone to research the meaning because she was too drunk to remember it. “Hold on, hold on. I gotta read this.”

She scrolled through her phone, still snickering, and started reading aloud. “'The Lovers card represents a deep emotional connection, mutual respect, and…'” She burst into another fit of laughter. “And this one says mirrored understanding both obtaining 'the key to the other’s heart'— Oh my God! That is so cheesy!”

Leon clutched his stomach, tears streaming down his face from laughter. “Oh man, this is too much,” he managed between gasps. “You literally just pulled this card while we’re sitting here, completely hammered. And you—” he pointed at her, still shaking with mirth, “—have a deck of tarot cards because your therapist told you to.”

They both erupted into laughter, losing all control as they doubled over, gasping for air. The absurdity of the moment left them breathless, each wave of laughter making it harder to catch their breath.

As their laughter finally subsided, Claire leaned back against the couch, trying to steady her breath. The room was filled with a comfortable haze, the kind that made everything feel a little softer, a little more intimate. She looked over at Leon, still wiping tears from his eyes, and felt a gentle pang in her chest.

It wasn’t that she had never thought about it before—about the possibility of something more between them. In fact, every time another relationship had crumbled, every time she’d faced the sting of another disappointment, her mind had wandered to this familiar comfort. Leon had always been there, a constant, a friend who understood her in a way that felt effortless and true.

She recalled the countless nights she’d spent analyzing every detail of failed relationships, wondering why things never seemed to work out. And yet, here she was, sitting beside Leon, feeling a warmth she had rarely experienced. It was so easy to be with him, so natural. The way they laughed together, the way they could slip into easy conversation without pretense—it all felt so right.

Her inebriated mind swirled with thoughts of The Lovers, Leon, and the key to her heart. Suddenly, The Heart Key emerged vividly from her drunken daydreams.

The image of that old, eerie key struck her with harsh intensity, like a jolt of whiplash. She could vividly picture it—the small heart-shaped key trembling in her hand, desperately trying to make it fit into a wooden door with a heart engraved on it, the sound of heavy boots pounding closer and closer in the background. The scene was a blur of panic and terror, an echo of a time when danger felt just a heartbeat away.

“You remember those creepy RPD keys? The heart, the spade, the club?” Claire said suddenly, her voice wavering as she tried to make light of the memory. “I tossed mine the second I could.” She shook her head, a small, rueful smile touching her lips as if to dispel the haunting recollection.

Her attempt to brush off the memory only partially succeeded. The weight of it lingered, blending with her feelings for Leon, creating a tangled web of nostalgia and longing.

Leon snorted, a grin tugging at his lips. “Oh yeah, those weird-ass skeleton keys. I still have mine.”

Claire’s eyes widened in disbelief. “No, you don’t.”

Leon, suddenly adopting a more serious expression, nodded. “Oh, I do. All three of ‘em. Spade, club, diamond.” He counted on his fingers, his brow furrowed in concentration as if making sure he hadn’t forgotten any.

Claire groaned, incredulous. “You kept them? Why?”

Leon shrugged, a touch of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “Superstition, I guess. Figured you never know when they might come in handy again.”

Claire shook her head, a mix of amusement and disappointment in her eyes. “It’s disappointing I didn’t keep the heart key. Would’ve been poetic to give it to you, considering…” She flicked The Lovers card on the coffee table, still laughing at the absurdity of their situation.

Leon suddenly stood up, swaying just a bit, and shuffled over to a cluttered junk drawer. Claire, half-laughing and half-confused, watched as he started rummaging through it with exaggerated care.

“You’re not—there’s no way you actually kept them,” she said, her words slurring slightly.

“Oh, just you wait.” Leon’s voice carried a note of mischievous satisfaction. After a few seconds of frantic digging, he turned around, a triumphant grin stretching across his face, holding up not just three keys but four.

Claire’s eyes widened in disbelief. “No way.”

Leon wiggled the heart-shaped key in front of her, his grin growing wider. “Yep. Found it in the trash. Fished it out because, you know—superstition.”

Claire sat up straight, her laughter abruptly fading as she focused on the key. It was the heart key, the one she had tossed years ago, now held in Leon’s hand as if fate itself had delivered it back. The sight of it struck her deeply, the emotional weight of the moment sinking in despite her inebriation.

“Wow,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. “You actually have my heart key.” Her eyes were wide, shimmering with a mix of astonishment and something more tender. She looked up at him, her expression a blend of wonder and a playful faux pout, feeling a strange and poignant connection to the moment.

Leon froze, holding the key between his fingers, realizing exactly what he was holding. “Wait a minute…”

“You can’t tell me this isn’t freaky!” Claire exclaimed, her voice rising with a mix of excitement and discomfort. “I told you, the cards—they speak to me!”

She studied his face, noticing the gears in his brain slowly turning as he glanced from the card on the table to the key in his hand, avoiding eye contact. When their eyes finally met, Leon drew in a sharp breath, as if the weight of the realization had just hit him for the first time.

Leon’s eyes locked with Claire’s, a mischievous glint dancing in them. “So, uh, since we’re already here, and we’ve got all this supernatural nonsense going on,” he said, his tone teasing, “do you think we should, you know, test the theory? Maybe—”

Claire raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk curling on her lips. “Test the theory? What theory?”

Leon shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking adorably unsure. “The theory that there might be... sparks? Between us. Or, you know, the theory that alcohol makes everything seem like a good idea.”

Claire burst into laughter, leaning back against the couch, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, really? And how exactly do you propose we test this theory?”

Leon scratched his head, trying to look nonchalant. “Well, I was thinking... maybe a kiss? Just to see if there’s any, um, cosmic energy or whatever. I mean, you did pull The Lovers card, and I do technically have the key to your heart—”

Claire cut him off with a mock gasp, pressing a hand to her chest. “A kiss, you say? That’s quite the scientific approach. And here I thought you were just trying to get in my pants.”

Leon grinned, taking a step closer. “What can I say? I’m a man of science.” He shrugged, a playful glint in his eye. “I think it’s important we verify these cards are really leading you in the right direction.” He nodded to himself, as if confirming his idea was both practical and brilliant.

Claire’s laughter bubbled up, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Oh, so you’re all about verifying data now? How very professional.”

Leon chuckled, leaning in just a little closer. “Absolutely. We wouldn’t want to ignore any potential... findings.”

Claire’s gaze softened, her playful smirk turning into a warm smile. “Well, in that case, I guess we should make sure all variables are accounted for.”

Leon’s eyes sparkled as he closed the distance between them, their faces only inches apart. “Couldn’t agree more.”

Claire’s heart pounded in her chest, a wild, exhilarating rhythm that echoed through her entire being as their lips touched. The kiss started as a soft, hesitant exploration, like the first brush of dawn against the horizon. It was sweet and tentative, each movement a gentle promise of something more.

As the kiss deepened, the world around her seemed to dissolve, leaving just the warmth of his lips and the intoxicating scent of whiskey and laughter. The initial playfulness melted away, replaced by an undeniable intensity that left her breathless. Every touch, every caress felt both achingly familiar and thrillingly new, a perfect blend of comfort and excitement that she had never experienced before.

The connection was immediate and electric, sparking a fire within her that she hadn’t known was waiting to be ignited. Her fingers found their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the gentle firmness of his embrace. She was lost in the sensation, the way his lips moved against hers, the soft sighs that escaped him. It was as if time had stopped, and in that suspended moment, everything else ceased to exist.

As they slowly pulled apart, their breaths mingling in the space between them, Leon’s eyes twinkled with a mix of mischief and sincerity. He looked at Claire, a grin tugging at his lips, and said, “Claire Redfield, you have officially made me a believer in the dark arts.”

Claire’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, her lips curling into an amused smile. “Oh really? And what, pray tell, does that mean?”

Leon chuckled, his gaze never leaving hers. “It means I’m now convinced that whatever cosmic forces brought us together were definitely onto something. Either that, or you’ve just worked some serious voodoo on me.”

Claire laughed softly, shaking her head as she playfully swatted his arm. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Hey,” Leon said, his expression softening as he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “I’m just saying, if this is what magic feels like, I’m all in.”

They both shared a tender smile, their playful banter only deepening the warmth of their connection. The Heart Key, once discarded by Claire years ago and long forgotten in the hidden recesses of Leon’s junk drawer, now seemed to fit perfectly as a symbol of unlocking something she had kept closed off for most of her life.

Claire couldn’t help but think, God, her therapist deserved a raise.

#cleonweek2024 #cleontb #cleon #claire x leon #claire redfield #leon kennedy #getting drunk

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