No strings attached / Leon s. Kennedy

Chapter 2

With a sharp intake of breath, I take a step back, breaking free from his grasp. "I'll figure out your secret, Kennedy," I declare, my voice trembling with determination.

His response is a smirk, infuriatingly smug. "Not if I figure yours out first," he retorts, his tone dripping with confidence. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I turn on my heel and walk away, refusing to let him see how much his words have affected me.

As I glance back over my shoulder, I see him seated back at the bar, a cocky grin playing at his lips. With a frustrated sigh, I realize it's my cue to leave. I can't stand another moment in his insufferable presence.

As I step into my apartment, a wave of exhaustion washes over me, dragging me further into the depths of weariness. I fumble in my pockets until I locate my key, the metal jingling as I unlock the door. With a sigh of relief, I push it open and step inside, shedding my jacket and tossing it carelessly into the corner.

The events of the evening weigh heavily on my mind as I make my way through the familiar surroundings of my apartment. Just when I thought the nights and days spent with Kennedy couldn't get any worse, today happens. I can practically feel the tension coiling within me, a knot of frustration and resentment that refuses to loosen its grip.

Finally, I reach my bedroom, and with a sense of profound relief, I collapse onto the bed. Kicking off my shoes, I let out a long sigh as the weight of the day lifts from my shoulders. The soft embrace of my bed offers a sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world, a refuge where I can finally let my guard down and breathe.

As I lie there, staring up at the ceiling, I can't help but wonder what Kennedy's game was tonight. Was it simply to get under my skin, to provoke a reaction? It certainly wouldn't be out of character for him. He knows full well that I dislike him and resent my newfound responsibility for him, and he's undoubtedly taking advantage of it.

I resolve not to waste another free thought on him. After all, my time is already consumed by him, and I'll have to face him again tomorrow, whether I like it or not. With that thought in mind, I let exhaustion pull me under, embracing the solace of sleep as I drift off into the embrace of oblivion.

-

Arriving at work early, I relish the opportunity to get a head start without Kennedy breathing down my neck. Adams has assigned me a substantial workload, and concentrating has been challenging enough without having to monitor Kennedy's every move and endure his irritating commentary on my mood or his feeble attempts at charm.

As I immerse myself in my tasks, the absence of Kennedy's intrusive presence is a welcome relief. I make steady progress, reveling in the rare moment of solitude. However, out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of his figure approaching my desk.

With a resigned sigh, I close the reports about the G-Virus that I'm still not allowed to show him. Much to my surprise, Kennedy doesn't say anything today. Perhaps, for once, he's decided to keep to himself. I allow myself to entertain the hope that today might be a day of peace and quiet, free from his meddling and irritating presence.

"Don't touch anything," I say, my voice sharp as I stand up. It's the first thing either of us has said in a while, but Kennedy ignores it, his attention focused on the notes he's been diligently scribbling down since he arrived, presumably about Umbrella. Great, the least he could do is acknowledge that he received the memo.

"You finally gonna leave?" he remarks, his tone condescending. I pay him no attention and make my way to Adam's office to report the new research I've completed.

As I enter Adam's office, I'm met with a warm smile from him. "That's an interesting piece of information about Raccoon City you got there," he says, nodding towards the research I've brought. "We probably would've overlooked this if it wasn't for you. I'll make sure to direct it to Hughes; I bet he's gonna find this just as good."

His words are like a balm to my frayed nerves, a welcome affirmation that my efforts are valued and recognized. It's reassuring to know that at least someone here appreciates the work I do, despite the challenges and frustrations I face on a daily basis. With a grateful nod, I thank Adams for his praise.

I return to my desk to find Kennedy has moved to the free one next to mine, his fingers tapping away on the keyboard. I can't help but feel a surge of annoyance at his proximity, but I push it aside as I force myself to engage with him.

"Who gave you work to do?" I inquire, my tone laced with thinly veiled frustration. Trust me, I wish I didn't have to hear his voice again, but it's unavoidable.

"You told me I can overlook research as long as it's not the G-Virus. Have you suffered from memory loss recently?" he retorts, his words dripping with passive-aggressiveness. I resist the urge to snap back at him, instead opting for a resigned sigh.

"Fine, send it over to me when it's done," I concede, my tone clipped. At least I can still maintain some semblance of control over the situation, even if it means enduring Kennedy's insufferable presence a little while longer. With a shake of my head, I return my attention to my own work.