Title: Shades of Grey

Fandom: Resident Evil

Content: Claire/Leon

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Capcom, not me.

Notes: I posted this eons ago on an old LJ account and found it early last week! A good find since I’d lost the original when I lost a flashdrive two years gone. Cool huh?!

 

He’d given himself enough time to shower and change before catching the first direct flight to Paris. His stomach was growling with hunger, but that could wait. Eating didn’t seem so important when compared to getting to his destination.

Most people found hours on board boring. Not him. He had many ways to pass the time. He thought of her and what she would be doing when he arrived. A quick check to his watch told him she would be sound asleep. There were few people in the world that would be awake at five in the morning.

The engines barely had time to cool down before Leon was off the plane and into a cab, heading for her apartment. He didn’t bother giving directions, just said the word drive. He only spoke to tell the cabbie where to turn. Though he’d never been, he knew where exactly to go. He’d played this over and over in his head so often; he questioned whether or not he had actually been.

After Raccoon and Europe, it was ingrained in his DNA to know all about the places he was going to. Looking for all exits into and out of town, looking for safe places while there. Just in case.

Not that he’d have cause for panic in Paris, but one never knew.

The cabbie drove off seconds after Leon never answered the question about a waiting lady. Now he stood outside her apartment building, staring up at the darkened windows, feeling the weight of his rucksack bearing down on his left shoulder. Always the left, never the right. The right was always free for the Red 9 handgun sitting, ready and waiting, in his holster.

It’d been so long, too long, since he’d seen the pretty little thing inside that building. He’d missed the auburn ponytail bouncing around her chin, missed the expressive green eyes, and missed the fruity lip gloss that glistened on perfectly shaped lips.

Leon didn’t even know if she still wore the fruity lip gloss or if she still had auburn hair.

The lock on the main entrance was no match for his equipment. He’d be reprimanded for using military issue stuff on civilian housing, but what the hell. After what he’d gone through to retrieve the President’s daughter, he figured the good ol US of A owed him some slack. Still, Leon made a mental note to improve the security.

Couldn’t be too careful.

The stairs were his next obstacle. Lifts and other confined spaces were a big no-no in his line of work. The stairs proved easy and he was outside apartment six before he knew it.

A few failed attempts at opening the lock made him smirk. Good girl, Redfield. No doubt her brother had taught her well. Not that she needed to be taught of course, she’d probably learned for herself.

He contemplated knocking, but that would ruin the surprise. He could shoot the lock open, but that would draw attention, and that was another big no-no. Leon learned through experience that silence was golden. He got lucky though, the fifth attempt at breaking and entering worked.

Door opened, closed, and securely locked. He was inside and standing there, with his eyes shut, doing nothing but inhaling the fading scent of her fruity perfume. There was another scent lingering in the air, but he couldn’t place it, yet he knew it was male.

Musky, heavier than the citrus. Definitely masculine. Leon figured if there was another man in there, then he’d meet the business end of his trusty old friend, Red 9.

Blue eyes opened and never waited until he adjusted to the darkness. Wasted time to could lead to serious injury. Or worse.

There was no male clothing, no signs of anyone or anything that wasn’t her. Good, very good.

A shapely figure laying dead to the world on the couch made Leon pause for thought. He could just make out the letters R.C.P.D on the makeshift blanket hiding her. The masculine scent was stronger the closer he got to her and should have known it was his. It should have touched him she was using his old cop jacket, but instead it left him numb.

As quickly as it came, the numbness was gone. It was a good thing he’d been given a few months leave. This way, she wouldn’t need to take comfort in his stuff; she could get it from him. For a while, at least until he got the call from work. Then it would start all over again. No phone calls, emails exchanged over government secured servers. He would hide one of her personal effects in a sewn up pocket and she would do what she was doing now.

Sleeping in the arms of Morpheous, shrouded in memories and protected by a man possibly dead at the hands of crazy people trying to play God.

Leon didn’t know who had it worse. Him or her.

A tiny little hum came from the pretty little thing and a tired smile worked its way across his tired face. She could probably sleep through a Nosferatu invasion if she wanted.

His rucksack was dumped, silently, at the edge of the sofa and he just as silently walked until he could get down on one knee. A large hand moved the collar of his jacket away from her pretty little face and his tired smile fell. In place was an expression that couldn’t be read.

How could he express how he felt? It was impossible.

She hummed again and shifted towards him, only being prevented from falling off the couch by Leon’s arm. This time when he smiled, it stayed. She still hadn’t woke up. He had the urge to yell zombies in her ear, but he didn’t fancy having a 9 mm bullet popped into his forehead. His girl still had the touch.

Auburn bangs flopped down and hid creamy eyelids from him. They were instantly pushed aside. Leon decided against waking her up just yet. He eased his arm out from under head and made sure it was secure on the small satin cushion, then he stood and stared down at her. It was so rare he got the chance to watch her that he took every opportunity thrown at him.

He looked until each strand of hair was memorized and moved away from her. His feet took him in the direction of a not-so-secret drawer near the T.V. There were only three people who knew what was in that drawer. One was asleep; one was on duty, and him.

The sketch pad was removed and Leon went to the window and the lights outside. He wouldn’t give her a rude awakening with harsh bright light, even if she did it to him once. She could do anything she wanted to him and he’d cherish it all.

Pages rustled as he opened the pad, but not even knowing how good an artist she was prepared him for the pictures inside. There were some in colour, some black and white, and some in charcoal. Each stroke was done with expert precision and brought to life things she had seen, places she had been, and things she had done. There were pictures of her brother Chris, ones of a guy he’d never met, ones of monsters and zombies.

Then there were the ones of him, and the ones of him and her.

Leon paused at what would probably be his favourite. It was drawn from her point of view. The very first moment they met, years ago, outside of the diner at Raccoon city. He had a gun pointed at her, the safety off and fully loaded. She’d put her heart and soul into this and it showed. The detail was exact and shading was precise. The small, authority stating letters R.C.P.D stood out the most and he traced them with a fingertip, softly so he didn’t ruin it.

Then he turned the page and he had a new favourite. And a tightening in his combat pants.

She’d drawn herself covered by a sheet, eyes closed and head tilted up. Glossed lips parted and waiting for something, anything, to touch them. She’d drawn him fully clothed, a testament to his authority no doubt, and his hands stroking her neck. His eyes were wide open and focused not on her lips, but down where the sheet was stretched around full, pert breasts.

Leon brushed fingertips over each and every line depicting her, his imagination filled in the missing colours. A deep burgundy for the sheet, a rich auburn for her hair, a pale beige for her lips. A thick black for his clothes, a dark blonde for his hair, and the colour of hunger for his eyes. He turned the page and again found a new favourite.

This one was more innocent yet more intimate. A dinner table was set in the centre of her apartment; candles were in the background, an old phonogram in the corner. He couldn’t see her face, but his imagination took care of that. His hands were at the base of a slender spine, his cheek against soft skin, lips lightly touching a delicate ear.

A new favourite would be on the next page, the page after that, and the page after that. The best ones were the ones that weren’t as innocent as a candlelit dinner. He went back to the picture where his head was between long legs and a look of ecstasy was on her face. Did she really want that, or was it a case of hero-worship?

Leon smirked. Not her. Never her. She would never need a hero, even while he was around. Just the thought of her needing a savoir was laughable. She was a girl who could deck her secret service brother in six seconds flat. She’d be running for another continent after Chris got up, but still. Sibling rivalry was like that sometimes.

Not that he’d know, of course. He was an only child. Something he was both glad and saddened for. If he had a sister, would she have gone looking for him like Claire had Chris? He wanted to say both yes and no.

The sketch pad was put back in its house and the memory of what was inside pushed away in favour of the pretty little thing still sound asleep on the sofa. It was time for her to wake up.

He took a gentle hold of her wrist and placed her dry, warm hand against his cheek, turning his head to place a kiss on her palm. Her skin was always soft and if it was at night, always smelled of baby lotion. If it was daylight, then her skin smelled of oranges and lemons, occasionally mango and passion fruit. Mouth watering, delicious, and completely Claire.

She rolled into him again, a dainty hand curled up on her chin, and a thumb came to rest on her lips. Auburn hair was exactly where he left it. Good. He could see her beautiful green eyes when they finally opened. “Hmm.”

“You gonna wake up for me, huh?” Leon figured a quiet murmur would never penetrate the concrete walls of a Redfield’s sleep. “I came all this way to get my jacket back. Seems rude of me to steal it while you

The only reaction he got was the slow, lethargic movement of feet as she huddled further under his jacket.

He moved a muscular thigh over her smaller body, feeling the way she instinctively shifted so he could lay on top of her. God, he was hard enough already, he didn’t need the tiny panting breaths tickling his neck. “C’mon Claire. Don’t make me get tough on you.”

He needed her. Really needed her. Needed her to be alive, needed her to be right where he left her. If she was sound, then he had someone to make the world safe for. Without her, what would he have? A job that put him in something worse than danger, a bunch of people he’d never see to never thank him for things they never knew about.

With her he had everything. The love was a bonus.

“Hmm.” Leon groaned when he felt curved hips rise and fall, each motion pushed her heat hard against his cock. Hands were now sliding down his back, going low enough for her to hold onto his ass, nails digging through his combat pants.

“If you want it, you gotta wake up for it.” Not that she was always awake when they screwed. Sometimes she would inch back just a little bit and he’d be inside, other times he’d make a dream come true and give her a orgasm that left her wrung out, wet, and sleepily begging for more.

Like now.

Her brow was furrowing, little lines looking adorable and he wanted to trace them with his lips, but he didn’t. There were far more important things to do. Blunt teeth were biting her lower pout and leaving it bruised, reddened. Leon slammed his body down on hers as though he could fuck her and a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through him.

“Claire,” Leon murmured just for the sake of saying her name. He said her name often. In the shower, in an empty bed in a dingy motel, out in the field. Whenever all he had was his hand to get him off. “Claireclaireclaire.” If she didn’t wake up soon he was going to be done. Fingers moved up and under his sweater, manicured nails now scraped over defined muscles as she arched up into him.

The combination of his jacket and sweater made it impossible to feel tight nipples, while combat pants and teeny tiny panties made it impossible for him to feel how wet she was. He needed that, needed to see if she needed him. Tonight and every other night.

What did she do when he wasn’t there? A twist of sheets, small fingers? Something more satisfying and less fulfilling perhaps? Leon ground down hard between supple thighs and knew when he found her clit. A high pitched yelp escaped and he did it again. And again, and again, until she was moaning constantly.

His imagination filled in the blanks. Picturing her with something solid sliding up into her sweet pussy. The downy peach fuzz covering sweet folds all soaked with juice. That was what she did. Used a vibrator to sate the craving caused by the first time. They were on the train, leaving the wreck of Raccoon city. Little innocent Sherry, daughter of the instigator of chaos, had slept right on through Claire’s cry as he desperately stole her virginity and made it his to keep.

Moist sloppy kisses, clumsy gropes and clumsier unzipping of pants had led to sweat, blood, and years of greedy need.

If Chris knew what was being done to his kid sister, there’d be hell to pay.

“More,” Claire gripped his shoulder blades with an erotic strength only a female could have. “More, Leon. Please more?” Don’t let this be a dream. God, please don’t let it be a dream.

“Then open those pretty eyes for me.”

Surprise, lust, need, and a whole host of other emotions fogged up stunning green eyes and he felt his balls tighten. “Ah hell.” Gotta stop fucking her, had to stop fucking her. Couldn’t stop fucking her. He wished he’d never asked her to look at him; it’d make stopping so much easier.

Leon breaths were hot on her damp neck as he fought to open his pants, his knuckles brushed her clit and those beautiful green eyes lost focus. Thick fingers rubbed her hard and fast, trying to get her to the point he was at. Cotton panties were pulled low. As innocent as she was tempting. He pressed that pearl, then watched and felt as she creamed all over his hand and drenched those cotton panties.

Seconds past and he was inside. Low grunts was the reward for velvety muscles clutching his cock. Curses were Claire’s reward for opening wide and giving him everything he ever wanted. “Am I fucking you? Is it real?”

A hot little whisper of yes was his answer, and then he was giving it to her good and fast. Slamming in ball deep, the tip of his cock bouncing off her sweet spot in a way that had her vowing his name was God. Then he felt it.

It started as a tingle in the base of his spine, working through his body until his dick was burning and throbbing with months of unresolved need. Maybe it was stupid of them not to use condoms, as unreliable as the pill seemed to be these days, but it couldn’t be helped. If Claire wanted to feel his cum filling her, then that’s what she was going to get.

It was over all too soon for Leon, who was still semi erect inside her, and he was left high, dry, and shaking on top of her. His mouth and hair wet with sweat, arms weakened as her pussy swallowed all the strength he had.

“Hi.”

Leon raised his head from her gently curved shoulder and smiled a smile that turned into a short burst of laughter which vibrated along her body and caused her muscles to fist his cock one more time. Claire gasped; hips jerked up to force his softening length deeper.

He brushed a bead of sweat from her face. “Hi.”

This time it was her giving a burst of laughter. A shaped eyebrow rose, “Missed me?”

The secret agent responded in kind. “Missed me?”

Claire pretended to think on that before answering. Then she felt something and her reply changed. “You’re either definitely happy to see me or that’s your gun.” She wiggled below him to make sure he knew that she knew it was his gun cutting into her hip.

Leon didn’t care to get the joke. “Who were you screwing Claire? Who were you dreaming of? Me? Say you were fucking me.” It was probably a lie, but it was a horny lie, and horny lies were a-okay in his eyes.

His ego didn’t need the boost. “Actually, I dreamt I got a bill for using the colour yellow. Weird.”

“You are weird, Redfield.” Leon rolled his hips and his eyes squeezed tight shut. He was sensitive enough to feel every clutch, flex, and flutter of her cunt. “And wet. Really, really wet. I saw your sketches. They’re provocative.”

She fell quiet for a second. “I have a new book. Chris doesn’t know about it.” She went quiet again, this time to wait for his response.

“I wanna see them, but I’d have to leave, and I’ve just gotten all warm and cozy.”

“And also a little scratchy with the combats.” Claire tugged on the black fabric to get her point across.

Leon smiled. Looked like it wasn’t just her who was really, really wet. “That’s the female way of saying take your dick out of my pussy, right?”

“The female way and also the less crude way, yes. I wanna show you my sketches.”

He groaned and used what was left of his strength to pull out of the lovely place between her legs. The jacket, now wrinkled beyond belief, slithered to the floor as Leon eased his body over to allow Claire to slide out from under him. Once the gorgeous, feminine warmth was gone, he flipped onto his back and used his arm as a pillow. His free hand swiped sweaty blonde hair out of sated blue eyes that followed the seductive sway of lovely hips.

The light was flipped on and both winced at the sudden brightness.

Claire shot Leon a look when he groaned again, this time it was full of agony. “What?”

The ex cop reached down to give his nuts a relieving squeeze. His combats were undone, giving her an unobstructed view of his cock, still slick with her juice. Her eyed smouldered and fluttered at the sight of dark hair decorating the base. “Your thighs, Redfield. I filled you good.” A little too good if the thick line of cum was anything to go by.

Claire looked down and saw the white liquid covering her damp skin. She swallowed. She couldn’t feel him inside until then. Suddenly shaking fingers touched between her legs, the tips gathering up the cum and took it to her mouth. Lips opened and eyes slammed closed at the taste of him mixing with the taste of her. She sucked and lapped until her fingers were clean and there was no more to taste.

Leon was hard again by the time she was done. “I got plenty more where that came from. And better ways for you to get it.” To prove it, a hand went down and he begun to lazily stroke his cock. Blue eyes were hooded with lust in the matter of seconds. “Forget the sketches Redfield.”

She shook her head and the auburn strands he loved so much flipped around the face he loved to stare at. “No, I think you’ll like these.” He’d definitely like these.

A low, rumbling noise came from somewhere inside the apartment. Claire glanced at the ex cop, her left eyebrow arched high as her eyes went from sweaty blonde hair to smirking lips, going lower and lower until she reached a well toned stomach. “Maybe you’d like breakfast better.”

“Redfield,” Leon sighed as though she was a God given gift. “You read my mind.” He realised he hadn’t eaten in… However long it had been since his last meal. Food could be had now that he’d done the most important thing. He also realised something else. “Hey, isn’t that my shirt?”

It was a dark navy blue, almost black, and loosely hung from her svelte figure. No doubt their previous activities caused it to badly crinkle around her chest. Strange. The crinkles seemed to enhance her breasts.

Innocence poured off her in waves. “What? This old thing? I found it on my floor.”

Funny. Her floor tended to end up being his wardrobe. Usually he was too busy to care where his clothes ended up. “Hm.” Blue eyes narrowed as he tried to tell if she really was innocent or if it was his shirt. “You don’t need my stuff when I’m here.”

A pretty little smile worked it’s way across her face. “You weren’t here at 3 am, but whatever you say.” The shirt was pulled up over her head, arms stretched in a way that made her breasts bounce and stomach go flat. Claire discarded his old cop shirt like it was yesterday’s news. She gave him a little twirl. “Better?”

“You’re killing me, Claire.” His gaze dropped to his shaft and the rounded head glistening with precum. Damn her not wearing a bra.

Heat trickled down her sticky thighs. He only called her Claire when he was horny, the rest of the time it was one of two. Redfield or courtesy of her snitching brother, Pepperpot. Something to do with the sprinkling of tiny dark brown freckles on her left hip. Leon would never have noticed if Chris hadn’t opened his big mouth. Well, he wouldn’t have noticed quite so soon.

“Let’s sate one appetite before the other.” She made a move for the kitchen, but stopped short when he showed no signs of following. “You know where the stove is, Scotty.” She’d help, not do everything for him.

Leon groaned to the ceiling and offhandedly noticed the beginnings of a colourful design. No doubt it was gonna be breathtaking when she was done. “She loves me. She won’t cook for me, but she loves me.”

He took the chance to remove his boots and combat pants. How humiliating would it be to trip in front of her? The heavy boots were neatly put into the corner and soaked pants were slung over a broad shoulder. “Got any darks to be washed?” He hoped she didn’t have any of the floral smelling powder. The guys would have a field day if he went back wreaking of heather and jasmine.

“Put them in front of the machine. I was gonna do some chores tomorrow before I went grocery shopping.”

Leon paused to press a soft, chaste kiss to her cheek. “By grocery shopping you mean you need actual food, don’t you?”

Claire shrugged, a sheepish grin lit her face. “I can’t help it if I prefer the pizza at Mancini’s.”

He understood. There was no point cooking up a storm if there was only person to enjoy it. “What do you have?” He was afraid to hear the answer.

“Just because I rarely eat in doesn’t mean I don’t keep a well stocked fridge. I’m Claire, not Chris… Hmm.” A warm arm sliding around her waist caused her to shiver and she leaned into him, enjoying the feel of being held. Mere days could go by and she’d miss his hugs.

Leon guided her into the kitchen, purposely ignoring the erotic brushing of her firm ass against his cock. “I could go for scrambled egg…”

Claire cut him off. “There’s bacon, egg, tomatoes, sausages. Everything a guy needs for a slap-up breakfast. I’ll start the sausages and scramble the eggs, you do the rest.”

He backtracked on his original choice. “I could go for scrambled eggs, bacon, tomatoes, and sausages. How about you sit here…” The ground was gone from under her feet and a kitchen bench was under her ass. “I’ll cook. You look like you need something hot inside you.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re here to feed me.” The cheeky grin belied the innocence of that sentence. Claire wiggled around until she got comfortable. Wow. This bench was a lot colder than it looked.

Her squirming hips couldn’t draw his eyes away from strawberry tipped breasts. Leon trailed his fingertips from ankle to thigh to waist, thumbs rubbed little circles on her skin as his tongue dipped out to lick his parched lips. He pulled her toward him and placed those shapely legs around him, holding on until she locked them tight.

Her stomach was soft, just like the rest of her, and he nuzzled her naval, only to feel a little object tickle his nose. Leon inched back and opened his gaze to see what it was. A laugh escaped when he saw three little blue stars dropping down from her belly button. How the hell had he missed that?

“I got it a couple of weeks ago,” she explained with a smile. “You like?” Claire flexed her stomach muscles, a grin appeared when the stars tickled her flesh.

Leon jiggled the jewellery in fascination. “It’s pretty. You’re not going badass on me, are you?” He’d had enough bad girls to last a life time. One in particular sprung to mind. He gave himself a mental kick up the ass.

He had the future Mrs. Kennedy naked in front of him, offering him everything, and he was thinking of a dark haired spy.

Claire took on a shifty posture. “I guess I shouldn’t tell you about the bank I robbed last week.”

Leon arched a brow and gave her stomach one more kiss, his tongue played with the stars and he had the urge to play with something else. Something a little tastier. “You’re a nut, Pepperpot. Speaking of money, are you sure you don’t need…”

She cut him off. “I wouldn’t take your money even if I did need it. Work pays well and I’m getting a few more clients lately. Plus, there’s a small art store that’s offered to sell some of my stuff, so that’ll bring in a bit extra. Besides, school finishes in a few months, so I’ll be back sponging off of Chris till I get sorted out.”

“You really won’t let me take care of you, will you?” It irked him that she wouldn’t let him buy her anything or spend any money on her. Sure he wasn’t the richest guy in the world, but being a government agent did bring in the bacon. Leon sighed. “At least let me buy the groceries. After all I’m the one eating them.”

A battle of wills commenced and Claire wasn’t the victor. Damn Kennedy and his ability to withstand anything. “Alright. If it’ll make you happy, then you can buy the groceries today, deal?”

They could be one of those regular couples who went grocery shopping together, paid the bills together, and did the chores together. An ounce of normality never hurt anyone.

“Include one of these in there and you got a deal.” Leon flicked the stars, watching as the gems shone with a multitude of blue shades. “Make it gold, with an emerald.” He would have said a diamond, but he had better uses for a piece of diamond jewellery.

Claire fell silent for a second. She didn’t want to be one of those women who fawned and fussed over every aspect of their respective others. She didn’t go for sickening displays of romantic affection. Or she didn’t until she met a blonde haired rookie cop. “I only wear blue stones.” Not diamonds, rubies, emeralds or anything else.

Ceylon was the exact shade of his eyes, and God didn’t she just feel like an idiot?

Thankfully he never asked why. “So how is school these days?”

She watched him move away from her and towards the compact refrigerator. “It’d be fine if my lunch money wasn’t stolen.” She hated it when he asked about school. It wasn’t school, it was university. A big difference.

Leon’s grin disappeared behind the white door and Claire snatched the opportunity to leer at his toned ass. “You go to class, learn stuff that you’re gonna forget, and get homework.” Teasing blue eyes peered over the door, “Yeah, I can see the difference.”

She merely sneered. “Just think. In a few months, you’ll be dating a fully fledged, qualified architect.”

“Catch.” The bacon was tossed and she caught it. “Tell me about the art store. Is there specific designs they want? Catch.” This time it was the pack of sausages that took flight.

“Not really. Just as long as there’s no pictures of pencils in trolleys.” Off the confused look coming her way, “This artist, I use that term loosely, put a large pencil in a trolley and called it art. I was thinking of doing some Mackintosh style stuff or giving them stuff I’ve already done.”

“Catch.” The mushrooms sailed right into her waiting hands. “Mackintosh?” He should know by now not to ask questions that revolved around designers. Determined not to miss the way her green eyes lit up, Leon poked his head over the door, forgetting the fact he’d just been sneakily drinking milk out of the carton.

It wasn’t hard for Claire to ignore the white moustache. “Rennie Mackintosh. He was ahead of his time. Died penniless, and now there’s a jewellery range in his style. You should see some of his stuff Leon. It’s incredible, really. I have a whole bookshelf dedicated to this guy. I’ll show you some pictures…”

She thought for a second. “Or better yet, I’ll take you to this little cafe and you can see for yourself the genius that is Mackintosh.”

Sure art and buildings weren’t his thing, but Claire was. If this Mackintosh man was important to her, then he’d sit through all the visits he could stand. “Looking forward to it.”

The fridge was closed and Leon leaned against it, the half empty carton of milk still in his right hand. He looked at her, sitting on the kitchen bench and all naked. The sun filtering through the little window enhanced her lightly tanned skin and turned the auburn hair a rich red. Dainty feet tapped off the cupboards, slender fingers twirled the pack of mushrooms this way and that while green orbs peered through dark lashes.

Perky breasts and strawberry nipples, peach fuzz between her legs that didn’t hide the pretty pink pussy. Leon groaned. “You’re shining for me, Kennedy.”

The mushrooms stilled, as did Claire’s breathing. Kennedy was not his usual name for her. “What did you call me?”

He shrugged. “Kennedy. Problem with that?” Did it matter if he didn’t get down on one knee and brandish a whopping diamond ring?

She chose her words carefully, wanting to make sure she wasn’t jumping to conclusions. “In what context are you using that name?”

Leon pursed his lips and stared not at her, but straight ahead. It wouldn’t be a big deal if she did have a problem with it. She was still young. He could wait until she was ready. “In the context that would mean you wouldn’t need no more shades of grey.”

Blood gushed through her ears and Claire had to concentrate on keeping an even keel. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. “Claire Kennedy. Claire Redfield Kennedy. Claire Redfield hyphen Kennedy. No. No problem.” Heaven help her.

Heaven help them both.

Chris was gonna have a fit.

A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. This was Claire. His best friend, partner in survival. Nothing to be nervous for. “Good. Good.” Definitely good. He could look at her now without fear. Leon gripped the milk to keep his hands from shaking. “Forget breakfast Kennedy. Let’s go to bed.”