Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Pickles make anything better. Anything.”

Wesker cringed as he had to shield his eyes away from Chris desecrating a perfectly decent peanut butter and jelly sandwich by neatly layering not just any pickles but crinkle-cut sweet pickles.

Wesker quickly swiveled around the break area before hissing in Chris’s ear snidely as the brunet took a hefty bite, ‘If I ever catch you eating that in my presence again, you can suck your own cock.’

Chris’s eyes teared up as he choked on the mouthful of peanut butter, jelly, and sweet pickle, flecks of crumbles raining down on the counter.

Face red, Chris thanked the officer, who kindly ran over to slap his back long enough until he stopped coughing. Wesker nowhere to be found.

Chris gazed down forlornly at his masterpiece sandwich as he placed it gently into the trash bin as if he was laying a bouquet of flowers on a loved one's grave.

Stepping away with a sigh, Wesker seemingly materialized out of nowhere, a smirk radiating at Chris’s misery.

“Jerk.”

“Pickle-eater.”

Chris threw his hands up in defeat, “What is wrong with pickles?!”

“They are gross.”

“No, they’r—”

Chris’s tirade was cut off by a shout in the break room, “Who wasted a perfectly good pickle sandwich with peanut butter and jelly?!”

Chris pursed his lips, pointing exuberantly at nonother than Barry Burton.

Wesker crossed his arms in disappointment, sneering, “It all makes sense now.”

Barry walked past them, a generous mouthful muffling his response, “Damn right! Damn waste of a good sandwich. Shame you didn't see it first, Chris.”

Chris chuckled nervously, "Yea, a real shame, Barry," but caught the green tinge of Wesker’s cheeks as he turned away from the wafting scent of the sandwich and the involuntary flex of his throat as Barry passed them. Chris cringed as finally, Wesker brought a hand up to cover an uncomely belch.

Cheeks burning and hands raised up to placate, Chris humbly whispered, “I promise I will neve—”

Wesker didn’t let him finish as he did an about-face, voice thick, “You damn well better promise!”

FIN.

Chapter Text

Chris solemnly stared blankly at the fuzzy news station spouting off more lies.

Lies discrediting those who survived the horrors of Umbrella’s mansion in the Arklay forest.

Him. Barry. Rebecca. Jill.

Lies. Lies. And more lies.

HIS lies! All of it!

He was a fool! A lovesick puppy drooling over any bit of attention he could claim from his Captain. Letting the older man corrupt him in ways he never imagined.

Still, despite the lies, Wesker's death was crushing, and he could not stop the aching pit deep in his chest.

A somber whisper, ‘Albert…’

Chris bowed his head, grabbing his ears, the anchor blathering on.

Finally, unable to continue to hear the bullshit coverup Umbrella dropped in Chief Irons’ lap to hide what really happened, Chris tossed the closest thing he could grab at the TV, an ashtray, cracking the screen and puffing ash across the room. The image of the STARS teams the last visual before it sparked and fizzled out.

Dropping his gaze and uncaring of the damage, he stared miserably at the fresh tears making a dark stain on the cheap hotel room’s carpet between his bare feet.

More tears dribbled, a broken lament, “I don’t know how to exist in a world without you.”

Snuffling and running the back of his hand across his nose, he downed another swig of amber liquor. He had already drunk a third of the bottle.

“You’ll manage. I trained you after all.”

Chris’s eyes swiveled towards the hauntingly familiar voice, tearing himself up from the lumpy couch, and stumbled into the corner next to the covered window with a crash as he knocked over a cheap standing light.

“Wha… WHATT THE FUCK!!”

Wesker stepped forward, dressed just as he was in the mansion, tisking and shaking his head, shades ever-present, “Now, now. That is certainly not a proper hello…”

“YUURR DEAD! I Wa-Watched You Die!!”

Wesker stopped several feet away from Chris’s trembling figure that had flattened against the wall, hand still clenched around the whisky bottle tightly. Finally noticing it, Chris dropped it as if it were burning coal, hands flying up to clench his hair.

“You did. But I’m still here.”

Wesker stepped forward, leaning in until he was just inches away from the brunet, making a show of inhaling deeply.

Chris whimpered, cringing further back away from his visitor as far as possible, hands covering his face, “NO! NO! Yuu-uuoo aaren’t REAL! YOU’RE DEAD!”

Wesker closed in purring into Chris’s ear, “Oh, Christopher. I can assure you. I am very, very real.”

Collapsing, Chris huddled against the wall, one tear-filled eye peering out from splayed fingers, “Hoo-ow i-is this pos-possible?!”

Wesker straightened, hands on his hips, a Cheshire cat grin splitting his face, “We are going to have so much fun!”

Fear reaching a breaking point, Chris charged forward, screaming as he darted towards the door, yanking it open and bolting away from the spectral image of his dead captain and lover.

Turning and almost tripping over his own feet, Chris stared at the empty open doorway to his hotel room, but there was no sign of Wesker or anyone for that matter.

Another room door opened, and an older man peaked out and swore at him to quiet down while shaking a worn shoe.

Jerking his gaze back to his room, the door open and the inside enticingly bright. Shivering, he checked his surroundings as he returned to his room.

Of course, it was empty.

Scratching his head warily, he picked up the lamp, the bulb broken.

The TV was shot, and he was not up for switching rooms.

Picking up the bottle he dropped, he downed its contents, chugging what little was left that hasn't spilled onto the floor, eyes closed as he savored the burn.

Upon opening his eyes, Wesker was sitting brazenly on the couch, smirking, arms across the back, legs crossed. Muscle memory served Chris well, and he chucked the empty bottle, but it bounced harmlessly off the cushions, clattering to the floor.

Several silent moments ticked by until Wesker could no longer withhold the laughter bubbling up from his throat.

Stumbling around towards the bathroom, giving Wesker a wide berth, Chris blabbered, “Yo-u’re in my head! Get out!”

Rising steadily and slowly following the brunet, Wesker shrugged, “It would seem you are correct, my Dear. But…”

Reaching the bathroom, Chris ignored him, jerking the sink faucet on full blast, splashing water into his face, rubbing vigorously.

“I’mm… I’mm losing my mind!”

The water did not help, and Chris anchored his hands onto the sink ledge, jerking up to look at their reflections, “GEET OUUTT OF MY HEAD!!”

A sudden pounding on one of his walls startled Chris, and he immediately turned towards the angry shouting to 'shut the fuck up.'

Seething and trembling, Chris dragged wild eyes back to Wesker’s reflection that stood directly behind him, a coy smirk plastered across the blond’s face, “The only place I’m going is wherever you’re going.”

Chris blanched, tears bubbling over ashen cheeks, “No… Impossible…”

Wesker cackled, arms crossing over his broad chest, “You’re the one who doesn’t know how to exist in a world without me… so now… you don’t have to. Because I’ll be right here following you, forever, right... by... your... side.”

Chapter Text

“Go back to bed before you hurt yourself.”

Chris flashed his gaze towards the spectral Wesker, trying to pretend he was not there as he continued to pace, staggering and tripping over his own feet to avoid the blond. He had downed the entirety of the liquor he was saving for the next day in hopes of drowning out the voice. Secretly, he had craved to hear the voice every moment of every day, except now he was trying his best to ignore it and pretend it didn't exist.

But Wesker was still there, pestering him with concern as Chris continued to spiral into a drunken stupor. Quietly, of course, already having been threatened by both adjoining occupants.

“At least sit down before you fall d—”

Chris veered around Wesker on wobbly feet, singsongingly, “You’re not realll. Noott rreeaaallll. Not here, not herreee, not Heerreee.”

Wesker was becoming more and more irritated the longer he was ignored, “Chris—”

“Shut up.”

“Christopher…”

Wesker approached, forcing Chris back further, and with nowhere to go, Chris found himself cornered in the shower, back pressed against the moldy tiles, fingers in his ears and eyes closed, trembling from exhaustion and severe disruption to his equilibrium, “Lalalalaaa…laaaa”

“Look at me.”

“La La La La La…”

“Look—At—Me!”

“LAAAA LAAAA LAAAA LAAAAA…”

The subsequent demand brought with it a shock of cold at the tone, sweeping up Chris’s spine, and he could not help but follow the order of his Captain… his dead Captain… his dead lover… who should be a smear in the rubble of the mansion.

“LOOK.AT.ME!!!”

It was not the perfect form of Wesker as he was at his best that had been taunting him the last few hours.

It was the corpse that stared blindly from where he lay in a pool of his blood, drenching the once pristine blue STARS shirt—a gaping hole where his body was torn free from cruel talons.

Chris could see the bathroom door through the void where shapely musculature should have been, gore dripping steadily, sharp bone fragments and ruined organs and intestine hanging free.

Chris’s breaths froze, and he gaped in horror as death closed in around him. He collapsed back, banging his head against the tile, a wet keening bubbling up gutturally as tears bubbled forth yet not able to wrench his eyes away from the severe damage as Wesker sneered above him with glazed eyes, hissing, “Look…”

Chris made eye contact with the dulled blue and could not stop the guilt suddenly overflowing down his cheeks, the world an unrelenting weight upon his shoulders, “I’m… I’m… so… so… sorry… please… please… I’m… so… sorry... Albert...”

Wesker leaned up, hands on his hips, eyeing the pitiful display, sighing, “And… why are you sorry?”

Chris clenched his eyes tightly, finally blocking out the horrific image, “I… I couldn’t… I couldn’t save you!”

Rolling his eyes in irritation, Wesker allowed himself to revert back to a more normal, non-gore-covered appearance, “Chris, there was nothing you could have done.”

Blubbering on, hugging himself and rocking forward as snot and spittle overflowed, “I could’ve pushed you out of the way. Or… or… shot the… the monster so—”

“Tyrant.”

Chris looked up in disbelief, “Whaaa…ttt?”

Wesker crossed his arms, reiterating that it was a tyrant and not just a ‘monster.’

“It was one of the greatest achievements of my career. And you laughed at it!” Irritation suddenly turned to burning rage, “You know what. You’re a fucking asshole, Chris. Laughing at my blood, sweat, and tears. Years and years of research and toiling work. You know nothing! Fuck you!”

Chris blinked, and Wesker was no longer standing over him, spewing on about his precious tyrant.

“Wesker… Albert?”

But there was no answer.

Standing, Chris took cautious tottering steps to the bathroom door to peer into the main room, “Albert?”

Chris’s chest tightened, and a tear rolled down his cheek. Then another. And another.

He was alone.

“Albert… I’m sorry. Please. Please, come back.”

Despite Chris’s sobbing and pleading for Wesker to return, his only companion the silence of the room and the muffled voices of his neighbors.

Chris was all alone.

Chapter Text

Chris could not help but check out Raccoon and the surrounding cities for a decent bar. His kind of bar.

It was the weekend before he started working for the Special Tactics and Rescue Service, otherwise known as STARS.

Luckily, he managed to find a few cheap seedy bars a few towns over, and with it being a long holiday weekend, he figured why the heck not. A little fun never hurt anyone.

Manscaping, just in case he did get lucky, he picked out some decently clean clothes that were not completely wrinkled from the long move and set out for an evening of adventure.

.....

After a couple of hours of bar hopping, which seemed to be a fruitless search, Chris decided to check one last place on the edge of the next town over, Mister E’s.

Seemingly a friendly enough place for what he was looking for, he took advantage of the drink special, trying to make the most of the night. Pounding his first ten shots, he opted to switch to the 50% off longnecks for the remainder of his evening. Enjoying the view of the other bar patrons and spying to see if there was anything worth getting worked up over.

He was about to write the evening off as a casual excursion, downing his last beer, that is until a finely dressed patron strolled up to the open space directly next to where he had wedged himself a seat to people watch, raising his hand to gain the bartender's attention.

Chris already felt tipsy, having made his way through four beers on top of the shots, and his boldness for making a fool of himself won over the tiny notion that this pristine piece of man meat had mastered the art of resting bitch face to perfection and was screaming 'do not approach.' Chris, of course, threw caution to the wind.

“You come here often?”

The stranger in question was clean-shaven and had finely slicked-back blond hair and only turned his attention enough to maintain the single expression through dark lenses, “Once in a blue moon.”

There was a short silence, and with as much gusto albeit shyly, Chris leaned over, speaking loud enough for the stranger to hear over the music pulsing through the bar, “I’m new in town.”

The man tilted his head slightly to reply, mouth a straight line, “Hmmm, I can see that.”

Unable to stop a nervous chuckle as he realized how far out of his league this man was, Chris rubbed the back of his head as he dropped his gaze back to the people, whispering mostly to himself as the stoic blond only glanced at him from the corner of his eye, “Shit… I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”

The man turned fully towards him, partially leaning against the bar and closing in, “You know exactly why you’re here.”

Chris nervously laughed as he jerked his gaze back in amusement from observing the mass of bodies crushing against each other, losing themselves to the beat, “I… do?”

The curl of one lip exposed sharp teeth as the blond leaned in to whisper into Chris’s ear, a hand gliding up to thread into the short hairs along Chris’s nape to turn his attention to the hot mouth millimeters from his skin, forcing a gasp from the younger man, “You came looking for Daddy, didn’t you?”

Chris’s hands shot up to grip at the older man's elbows, and he could feel the sinew ripple under his grip, cheeks flushing slightly at the tightening of the other man’s grip, not expecting the sudden proximity, “I… uhhh...”

*****

Chris fixed his clothes for the third time as he waited with bated breath, eyes shifting nervously around the bustling Raccoon Police Department reception area for the owner of the sleek black vehicle that he recognized as that of his weekend ‘daddy.’ The same ‘daddy’ that he let fuck him up against said sleek black vehicle. Of course, upon recognition of the vehicle, he quickly inspected it for any evidence he may have left behind, but there was not a smudge on the sleekness, all evidence of the tryst gone.

Not that it had been a bad evening. Far from it. It had been one of the more exciting pickups he had had in a very long time. Exciting, teasing, and completely and utterly satisfied by the end of the encounter. Enough that he even got a phone number without even asking for it.

“Chris!” Chris grinned as he caught sight of his knight in shining armor, Barry Burton.

Unable to push the nervousness away completely but relieved that he recognized a friendly face and the proprietor of his employment at the RPD, “Barry!! Oh, man! You should have let me ride with you this morning.”

Barry shook his head, “You’ll be working late getting your paperwork and uniforms squared away. Come on. Let me introduce you to the boss.”

Nervousness became fleeting as Chris followed Barry to the newly established STARS offices. Chris cheerfully met a large portion of the Bravo Team, who were a lively bunch offering to take him out drinking one night to catch him up to speed.

Chuckling at such a warm welcome, Chris followed Barry into the Alpha Team’s office, where he would be positioned as pointman.

“Here, this is Captain Wesker’s office.” Barry pointed to his left, the door closed, and looking around, pointed to an empty seat that would be Chris’s home away from home. “Alright, give him the ol’ knock. I’m gonna round up the rest of the crew for you to meet.”

Barry retreated back to the maze of hallways and, unable to help the smile lighting up his face, he quickly knocked on Captain Wesker’s door.

“Come in.”

Chris hesitated, not sure he had heard what he thought he heard. Swallowing thickly, the nervousness returned full force as he slowly turned the doorknob and managed to partially open the door before he froze.

“I do hate repeating myself.”

The blond not-so-stranger from his weekend rendezvous stood up from his desk, face stoic just as when he first laid eyes upon him at Mister E’s, shades immaculately in place.

“Good to see you made it in safely.”

Chris stood rigid at attention, unsure how to act, cheeks reddening, despite the other man being unfazed, “Captain Albert Wesker. Glad to have you on my team.”

A bare hand reached out, requesting Chris return the formal greeting by providing his hand in return.

Chris managed a quiet ‘likewise’ in return, and his new captain grinned as Chris hesitantly took the proffered hand.

Suddenly, Chris found himself yanked forward, pressing almost flush against his new boss. Sputtering in shock, Chris tried to backtrack, but a grip on his bicep prevented his retreat, confusion lacing his panicked expression.

The hiss that escaped quietly next to his ear stilled him, “I still remember how you taste.”

Suddenly released from the captain’s grip, Chris heard Barry and additional voices waft in from the hallway and closing in, and he wrenched himself out of the office, trying to hide his red face behind a coughing fit.

Albert Wesker followed him out, leaning against his doorway as the rest of the team arrived, greeting Chris cheerfully, promising to take good care of him.

Wesker's gruff chuckle brought Chris’s attention back to him, “Welcome to the family, Chris. You'll be right at home here.”

Chapter Text

"Come with me, and you'll be safe. I'll take care of you. Listen to Daddy, Chris. You know you want to..."

Chris’s eyes were locked onto the shielded gaze that had so many times promised he would always be protected. His hands hung limply at his side, unable to process a gun was aimed in his direction.

“What’s he talking about, Chris?! Chris, Please! Wha—?!!” Stepping away, Rebecca’s eyes shifted between the two men.

Wesker chuckled as he started to squeeze the trigger. The gunshot was loud, echoing off the laboratory walls. Chris reacted too slow, a strangled 'no' escaping him, but Wesker’s voice commanded him to stay, “DON’T!”

Chris gazed sadly at Rebecca, who lay unmoving where she had crumpled, “You… you didn’t… have to do that!”

Wesker dropped his weapon to his side, re-holstering it as he stepped back to the computer console, “I told you to come alone.”

Desperate, Chris could only confront Wesker by grabbing hold of the flack vest, wrenching Wesker’s attention bodily towards him, the momentum causing the tapping fingers to drag along the keyboard.

“You promised you wouldn’t hurt anyone!”

Hands gently grasped the one clenching his vest, “It had to be done. I told you the consequences. Only you. No one else. You could have separated and sent her on another path, but you didn’t. Did you?”

“But…”

Wesker brought a hand up to caress Chris’s quivering cheek, running his thumb along the brunet’s lower lip, “No buts. I can keep you safe. Did you take it?”

Suddenly an alarming beeping captured their attention, Wesker jerked away, eyes dancing across the screen, “Shit!”

Frantically looking at the now-bubbling vessel holding the tyrant, Wesker immediately jerked his attention towards Chris, “Get out of here!! Run!”

Chris barely had a moment before the loud shattering of glass and blood splattering as Wesker was impaled from behind. Chris’s eyes locked onto Wesker’s quickly glazing panicking gaze.

“Daddy!!”

Wesker sputtered, eyes rolling back as his head dropped limply before being wrenched across the room, blood splattering everywhere as he was ejected from the vicious claws.

Anger fueled Chris’s gaze as the tyrant momentarily eyed where Wesker had crumbled against consuls on the other side of the lab.

Trying to retain the monster's attention from hurting Wesker further, Chris snarled at the tyrant, pulling his magnum from its holster, "Come on, you test-tube freak!"

Chapter Text

Chris was violently tossed back behind Wesker, almost as if his arm was pulled from its socket as the vice grip yanked him back, “Run!”

The fight Chris was witnessing was incomprehensible, especially the hulking monster somehow quickly maneuvering in such a bulky form. Wesker had somehow managed to gain the upper hand for a moment, but the monster, or tyrant as Wesker had called it upon warning of its presence, had managed to grip Wesker by his neck, roughly pulling him up off his feet.

Chris started to yell but quickly pressed both hands over his mouth as the tyrant withdrew his clawed appendage, holding several seconds as Wesker tried to pry up the fingers clenched around his neck, only to violently impale the writhing body through.

The incredible injury caused Wesker to scream but somehow quickly recovered long enough to grip his fists together, slamming them down against the monster’s head, which splattered like a rotten watermelon.

Chris could only gape in shock as the headless bulk collapsed, milky blood splattering everywhere as Wesker dropped along with it, gushes of blood pulsing out from the devastating wounds as the claws partially retreated.

Chris stood helpless as he watched Wesker shakily pull himself the rest of the way off of the cruel talons with his arms, dragging himself through viscous fluids, his legs utterly useless. A fluttering thought was that he was surprisingly thankful that he could not feel his legs, spinal cord severed.

Wesker blindly swiped at Chris, who suddenly dropped to his knees at his side, hands pulling him into the younger man’s chest to press against the gaping wounds in his back, forcing a gurgled whimper through a choked breath, “Y-you n-need… to go.”

Chris could feel Wesker convulse from the massive hemorrhaging from the gaping wounds as he tried to staunch the flow, but with each stunted breath, more red gushed past his hands.

“I can’t leave you like this!”

Chris was crying, and it broke Wesker, seeing the younger man so distraught.

“Pl-please, go. You need t-to go!”

Wesker’s expression suddenly calmed, and he reached up to grip the back of Chris’s neck, pulling him down until their foreheads touched, "Chris... You promised, remember?”

Chris trembled, his free hand not supporting the broken body scrambling for something, anything to do to help, but Wesker grabbed it, holding it still with surprisingly steady strength, “Trust me.”

Chris froze, tears rolling down his cheeks as he gazed dumbly at Wesker’s suddenly calm demeanor.

“You… you wanted this to happen?!”

Guilt crept into his pained stricken features, unable to think of any good excuse, “No…No-not li-like this.”

Hazel scrambled, trying to understand the meaning behind those words, “What? What does that mean?!”

Wesker couldn’t keep focus for long. He tried so hard to keep his concentration on Chris’s face as the younger man pulled him in tighter, but he felt the pull of sleep as the pain dulled and his vision darkened.

“Wha— Wesker?”

“Wesker!”

“Come on!”

“Open your eyes!”

“No… no… no… Oh, please!”

“Albert! Please! Wake up!”

“Please… Please don’t leave me!”

“Trust me.”

Chapter Text

Chris was scrambling, rushing towards Wesker, Desert Eagle gripped in both hands, looking around cautiously, “Albert! What… what the fuck is this?! Wha—What are you doing!! What did you do?!”

Wesker leaned against the wall. Hand clenched tightly around the syringe William had given him, his thumb had just released the contents into his bloodstream. Wesker had no reason not to trust his conspirator, but the events leading up to now were not how things were supposed to pan out.

Chris grabbed the syringe from loose, trembling fingers and tossed it down the hall to shatter. Wesker barely able to follow the action. Sweat glistened across his brow, and all color slowly drained from his already pale face.

Guilt raked across Wesker’s mind as he watched Chris panic. It was a relatively unknown feeling, only recently plaguing him as he shifted his eyes and tried to keep his gaze on Chris’s distressed face, who had latched onto his vest strap, jerking him.

So many had already perished, only a handful left. Wesker couldn’t protect them. Not like this anyways, hanging on barely by a thread. He knew several of his ribs had given way to Lisa’s unforgiving strike, and he was not even certain how he was still standing.

Not quite sure what William gave him would do. He knew the basics of it, but he was not planning on his confrontation with Lisa, much less her even being alive.

It was that slow mental realization as his lungs seized and his vision rolled upward as a lightning strike of raw nerves exploded in his injured side.

Chris gripped onto Wesker's collar as the blond convulsed and lost his footing, “Wesker!”

Grappling with flailing limbs, Chris slowly lowered him to the ground as carefully as he could as a strangled cry echoed around them.

Wesker distantly felt Chris slapping at his limp cheek as his lungs constricted and all his muscles spasmed at once.

“Breathe, Wesker! Come on!”

Chapter Text

Consciousness came back slowly despite the rough jostling. Someone was carrying him on their back and Wesker absently knew it was Chris. Maybe it was the scent of the younger man’s soap, or the strong hands clasped under his ass to keep him from sliding. Or… perhaps it was the muscles he could feel flexing against his chest, so familiar even under the flak vest.

Absently, he shifted to press his forehead against the sweat-drenched nape, “You… sh-should have… walked away… when you... had the chance.”

Wesker’s abdomen ached severely, and he felt liquid bubble in his chest, and he couldn’t stop the involuntary movement as his body forced it up to clear his airway. Groaning pitifully, he felt the liquid soak into the back and over the shoulder of his savior.

Chris turned to look over his shoulder, “Oh, come on!!”

Embarrassment flushed Wesker’s cheeks, but he didn’t apologize, agony pouring from his core with each bounding step Chris took. Hands that had been dangling limply tightened around Chris’s shoulder, fingers catching in the white t-shirt and vest.

His weight shifted as Chris leaned forward and huffed him further up his back causing a sharp breath to escape him, teeth grit as his muscles stiffened.

Chris let out an exacerbated snort, “How long?”

Readjusting his grip on Chris’s shoulders to attempt to take some burden off the hands under his rear, Wesker retorted, “…Since the beginning.”

A painful silence fell between them until Wesker couldn’t stand it any longer, “We… were never friends. I’m so sorry. None of it… was real, but I wish it was.”

Entering the safe room, Chris crouched to deposit Wesker onto the floor none-to-gently and he had to steady himself with a wet grunt, hands immediately going to what he assumed would be open, gaping wounds, but was only met with tender scar tissue.

Chris snarled irritably, recapturing Wesker’s attention, “No. We weren’t friends. We were coworkers who just happen to be fucking.”

For some reason, those words hurt more than Wesker thought they would.

Sighing shakily as his eyes watch Chris shuffling around the room, pulling items from a large chest, looking for something.

Feeling a need to explain further, Wesker couldn’t stop words from bubbling forth, “I told you… not to get too close to me. From the day we met, I knew I’d hurt you eventually. I… If we had never met, it would have saved us both some grief.”

Chris’s irritation rose, and his eyes quickly snapped over to the mess of his secret lover, not even quite sure why he had spent the extra energy to drag him along except the fact that Wesker had still been alive despite the odds, “Shut up.”

Wesker managed to get to his hands and knees, but his back wouldn’t allow more than that, his legs tingling as if they had been asleep for years as the nerves reconnected, “I wish you never had trusted me. I told you to leave, but you didn’t. I gave you the chance!”

Chris dropped the items in hand back into the chest, stalking over to where Wesker knelt and dropped to a knee. Wesker didn’t fight back when a fist gripped his hair, pushing him back to slam against the floor, a trembling finger pointed in his face. Chris was absolutely enraged, “SHUT. UP.”

Gaping wide eyes back at the sudden violence towards him, on the point of cracking, Wesker whispered past the lump in his throat, “I did something terrible.”

Rage was fleeting and horror surfaced in hazel eyes but the grip holding him down didn’t loosen, “No…”

Not able to stop the confession from spewing out of his mouth, Wesker spoke as quickly as he could, “It was inevitable, but I regretted it every step of the way.”

“No.”

“I did it because I had to, not because I ever wanted to.”

“No!”

“I did—do care about you, I just had no other choice.”

“NO!”

“I’m mainly sorry that somewhere along the way, I started to care about you.”

Chris roughly shook his captive, wrenching a wavering cry from Wesker as hands tried to remove fingers clenched in the ruins of his clothes. The violent jolting disturbed regenerating organs and blood sputtered from pale lips.

Seeing the agony etched in Wesker’s features, Chris sagged, tears glittering as he curled down to press his forehead into sweat and blood-drenched locks, “Wh-WHY! Why tell me this now?!”

Several heaving breaths to clear his lungs, Wesker murmured, “I hurt people. It’s all I’m good at.” It was as honest a statement as anything he could think of at the moment.

Not having any energy to push himself up, much less push Chris away, he let the younger man pull him into his arms, cradling and rocking him as a choked sob wracking the younger man’s frame, “I don’t… I don’t believe you!”

Trying to keep his own emotions in check, Wesker rasped sullenly, “Do you think I liked hurting you?”

Chris was silent, and his grip became almost painfully tight in a crushing embrace, but Wesker would not deny him this knowing full well what he had done, “I guess this is a lesson in not trusting people, right?”

The arms loosened slowly allowing him a deeper breath but pulled him closer to settled more against Chris’s solid frame, “Shut up before I realize I made a mistake saving you.”

Trembling as he felt his flesh achingly put itself back together, Wesker lamented, “I wish I could just… make a wish and become a better person.”

A hand tilted his chin upward and Wesker was surprised to see how calm Chris looked and his eyes jetted to every portion to see where reality ended and the mask started, “You can start now.”

Wesker knew he shouldn’t have been so surprised, but he was, and he couldn’t hold back the tearful laugh that caught in his throat as he kept hold of the warmth in the younger man’s gaze, not even sure what to say.

Chris leaned forward to press his lips against Wesker's forehead, “It's time for you to trust me.”

FIN.

Chapter Text

Chris was nervous the entirety of his first week working at the RPD, never wanting to get stuck in a room alone with his new boss for fear of getting caught in a sticky situation. He had wracked his brain every day on how to deal with their Mister E’s rendezvous.

Wesker never brought it up at all, yet it had been stewing in Chris’s mind until he threw his luck to the wind. It was how he had gotten himself in this mess in the first place.

The shades that were ever present on the S.T.A.R.S. captain’s nose hid his eyes well enough that Chris could never tell if Wesker was staring at him, but the prickle of skin at the back of his neck was telling enough. It was the end of the week and he knew he needed to do something.

Finally, it was Friday, and of course, he had some last minute paperwork to file away to finish his inprocessing and Barry was waiting on him to finish up to take him out for a round of beers for making it through the first week without getting in too much trouble.

It had been very obvious to everyone in the office how much more strict Wesker was with Chris who would stutter at being called out for ridiculous things, like how dirty his fingernails were. Which upon the next day, they were clean and clipped and immaculate. A small curl of a lip was Wesker’s only reaction to the oddball demands.

Friday had crawled by and Chris stared at the clock, nervous sweat trickling down his neck. He had to sit a moment to calm himself before doing something he would have never thought of doing in a million years.

“Come on Chris, lets get going or we'll miss getting good seats!” Barry clasped his back.

Coughing to cover how startled he truly was, Chris stood, chair screeching, his back ramrod straight, “Uh, yeah. Let me just hand these last few pages to Captain Wesker.”

They were the last of the papers for his file. Plus, a little something. A make it or break it ultimatum. A test to see if Mister E’s was a fluke or the real deal.

Stepping toward the open office door, Chris knocked before popping into the doorway, “Captain Wesker, Sir. The last of my papers.”

Wesker was occupied by a phone call, phone resting on his shoulder as he hummed in agreement, and waved Chris in, his mouth a stoic line, and he leaned forward to purposefully touch skin as he took the papers from Chris’s grasp who had to hold back a hiss of surprise at the touch.

Whispering low and blushing, “Ha-have a good weekend, Sir.”

The shark-like grin that was returned was unexpected and a curt nod his only response.

Chris was stunned a moment, caught by the predatory expression and an unruly flashback of sharp teeth biting his shoulder and he reached up unconsciously to where the love bite had faded over the past several days.

Chris bolted before he could further cause himself any deeper misery. He felt like he was playing a deadly game of cat and mouse and now regretted what he had left in the stack of his papers, but there was no turning back now.

****

Wesker hung up on one of his contacts and quickly skimmed through the last of Chris’s papers and was about to put them aside for his main file, that is until a smaller piece fluttered to the floor that had been stuffed in between the papers.

It landed on the floor face down and curious Wesker picked it up to see what had gotten mixed up from the already messy desk of his newest subordinate.

The note was slightly crumpled, as if it was held in a sweaty hand or pocket.

Wesker read it. Then read it again. With each iteration, his grin grew wider and wider.

“Well, well, my Dear Boy knows exactly what he wants.”

It was a list of demands. One Wesker could not pass up.

1. pull me up to you by my hair
2. put your hand around my throat
3. keep eye contact
4. say “do what daddy tells you”

Picking his phone back up, Wesker re-dialed the last number he had called. Upon an answer, Wesker quickly cut to the chase, “Sorry Will, I won’t be able to make it this weekend. Something’s just come up, but I’ll make it up to you some other time.”

*****

Chris was almost safe until he heard his new captain calling his name from the precinct.

Barry looked back over his shoulder in surprise, calling back to Wesker, "What did he forget his head or something?"

Wesker trotted up to the duo, Chris turning beat red as he tried to sputter to explain the note, but it was a different smile. One he had not yet seen on Wesker's face. It was serene. Not an ounce of mocking.

"You dropped this by your desk. Figured it was important."

It was a small folded note and Wesker handed it out to him. Chris's brows pinched in confusion, taking the note.

Wesker bid them both a good weekend and made his way back inside.

"What did you forget this time?"

Opening the note in confusion, Chris's brows popped up comically at the contents. Quickly before Barry could take a peek, he pocketed it, "It's uh.. nothing important. Just a reminder I dropped."

It was indeed a reminder.

'Same place. 2300.'

Chris's belly fluttered, cheeks heating slightly and he tried to suppress a stupid grin, "Alright Barry, lets get those good seats."

He needed to start throwing his luck to the wind more often.

Chapter Text

Chris had gotten bored waiting for Wesker to arrive at the designated time, so he figured it was little harm to see who else was on the scene. Not usually one to go for an overbearing partner, he usually looked for a one-and-done fling. But Albert Wesker was on a whole other level. Not only his direct superior but probably one of the best fuckings he had in forever. Maybe ever.

He couldn’t remember being so fully satiated after a romp and he was glad he had an extra day to recoup before his first day in the office. The tryst had worn him out and left him sore.

The older man was smooth, coy, and confident, and knew how to push all his buttons with a straight face. It drove him insane. And yet he found he enjoyed it. Chris wasn’t really expecting much after he had handed Wesker his crappy note, but he gazed at his watch and huffed in irritation. It was going on 2350, practically midnight.

Sighing and lazily leaning back against the bar, figuring he had been stood up, which he found to be extremely disappointing, he happened to catch a pair of dark eyes staring longer than one normally would if they were not interested. Smiling behind his longneck, Chris raised an inquiring eyebrow at the stranger who, looked side to side in silent inquiry and then pointed at themselves, face scrunching up to mouth out ‘me’ questioningly over the loud pulsing music.

The stranger was more who he would normally go for, and he shrugged and raised a finger from its perch on the bottle to point at the other man and then brought the finger to tap at the space next to him at the bar in invitation.

Smiling nervously, not usually propositioned so directly, the man took hesitant steps forward to join Chris at the bar, speaking loud enough for Chris to hear, a chuckle accompanying his amusement, “That usually never happens. Silas.”

A hand reached out towards Chris, and he returned the gesture with a firm grip, “Chris.”

Silas returned eyes hesitantly to the crowd of bodies before returning to inspect Chris, “I’ve not seen you here before.”

It was difficult to hear, and Chris leaned in closer to Silas, “In town a week or so. Getting a feel for the area.”

Silas smirked, leaning closer to Chris’s ear who angled his head down to receive, “It’s a decent place.”

Chris was about to reply but ghostly fingers suddenly tightened in his hair, and he was wrenched against a solid body and into a less than happy Captain Wesker’s sneering frown, eyes covered by his ever-present shades, a rumble low and disapproving vibrated from the taller man's chest.

Silas backed away abruptly at the violent upheaval of Chris and when the blond's head turned towards him, he quickly stammered his apologies, hands up to placate the cold scowl, “Sorry, Sir. I didn’t know he was taken. Sorry. Sorry.”

Chris whined, gripping at the wrist holding his hair tightly, the other pressing the bottle against Wesker’s chest to try and put some space between them. Wesker’s other hand jerked up to grip Chris’s throat, fingers loosening in the messy brown hair. Wesker quietly hissed into the younger man's face, “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

Gaze darkening, Chris swallowed nervously, causing the pressure against his throat to tighten slightly, “Di-Did it… work?”

The sneer lifted, but Wesker’s brows remained furrowed in irritation, and he shifted himself to enclose bodily around Chris, pressing the younger man tightly against the bar. Releasing his hold on the brunet’s neck, Wesker took the bottle from Chris’s hand and placed it on the bar and out of sight.

Slowly kneading the nape as if in apology, Wesker lowered his head to whisper against the shell of Chris’s ear, “You’ve been a bad boy.”

Sputtering in anger, Chris lifted his wrist up to point at his watch that now showed that it was well after midnight, “But—!!”

Wesker snapped his hips forward and the force jarred Chris back harder against the bar, pinching him against the hardwood in silent punishment, “That doesn’t give you permission to go looking for another dick.”

Anger flashed in Chris’s gaze, “Permission?! I don’t need your permission!”

Wesker dropped his hands to dig harshly into Chris’s hips, pressing them flush together and forcing Chris to sway to the beat, still quietly musing the indignant expression, “Hmmm, oh but you do, my Dear. You see, if you want your tight little hole stuffed to the brim you do what Daddy tells you.”

Swallowing a choked noise, Chris fisted his hands in Wesker’s shirt as his cock jumped at the vulgarity as the words trickled enticingly in his ear, and he remembered how amazing he had felt last weekend. Amazing really couldn’t describe the entirety of the experience. It was unprecedented. There was no other equivalent in his inventory of memories of trysts or sexual partners.

Chris tried to control rapid breaths as Wesker pressed the beginnings of his hardness into the brunet’s thigh as they swayed, a response to Chris’s quickly building arousal. The brunet’s cheeks flushed as Wesker leaned in close to breath him in, nose tickling his neck and it forced a shiver from Chris’s body, his eyes fluttering shut with a quiet moan as his hand drifted to pull Wesker's hips more solidly against his own just to feel a tiny bit more.

Chuckling darkly, Wesker leaned back to gently grip Chris under his chin, “Are you going to be a good boy and listen?”

Sweat dripped down Chris’s spine and he nodded vigorously in silence, eyes dilating at the provocation of what possibly Wesker was going to order him to do.

Wesker tilted his ear down to Chris's lips, a mock look of confusion on his face, “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you, Boy.”

Swallowing thickly and trying to keep his legs from trembling at how close the other man was, Chris muttered, “Ye-yes, Daddy.”

Turning swiftly, Wesker wrapped an arm loosely around the brunet’s shoulders, pulling Chris along towards the exit. Chris grunted but didn’t protest further at the roughness of the taller man shuffling him through the throngs of bodies, the hand of the arm around his shoulders had gripped the back of his neck to push him through the narrow spaces between grinding bodies.

Reaching the muggy summer night, Wesker pulled Chris’s tightly against his side and pointed at the familiar sleek black vehicle, “Get in the car.”

Daddy's Boy will be continued in it's standalone work https://archiveofourown.to/works/37277746/chapters/93010711

Chapter Text

Shifting away from Sheva, Chris stumbled through the catacombs, rubbing his chest where Wesker had kicked him, the tyrant closely stalking behind him.

After a minute of their cat and mouse game, and not able to get a good shot at Wesker, Chris whispered into his com, “Sheva? You listening? I need a distraction.”

“Chris, you are a distraction!” She grumbled back with a grunt but reluctantly agreed, taking a few shots at Wesker’s back after losing Jill at the other end of a long set of pathways.

Growling as several rounds peppered his back, Wesker swiveled, “You're merely postponing the inevitable!”

Now was Chris’s chance. Bullets didn’t seem to phase Wesker much, but Chris hoped he could at least take Wesker out long enough to get Jill to snap out of whatever spell she was under.

Trusting that Sheva was a good shot, Chris barreled at Wesker’s slightly hunched over form. Just as Wesker turned with a sneer and glowing hate-filled eyes, Chris brought the back of his rifle down as hard as he could against the back of Wesker’s head, dropping the tyrant with a puff of dust.

Chris jumped back, rifle up, but there was no movement from Wesker, who lay where he had crumpled. Taking a chance, Chris kicked one of Wesker’s boots, “Hey! Wesker!” Still, no movement, and Chris kicked the outstretched foot harder but there was no rousing from the body.

Looking around, Chris inched forward, crouching to press along Wesker’s neck for a pulse, and found it slow and steady. He patted against Wesker’s back, “Passed out, huh. I expected more from you.”

Suddenly a cough brought more dust up into his face, and Chris backed away, bringing the rifle muzzle up to aim at Wesker’s head. Red eyes cracked open, and several more coughs disturbed the dirt-covered path.

A groan escaped and Wesker brought a hand to the back of his head, hissing as he examined the rising contusion, “Sh-shit.” Looking around his surroundings, Wesker shuddered and slowly pushed up to sit back on his haunches, hands held in front of him as he looked down at himself, “Wh-what in the fucking hell?”

“Hands up, Wesker!”

Startled, Wesker hissed, bowing his head as he wrenched himself to look back at Chris who had his sight set on him center mass.

“Chr-Chris?! What—?”

Angry at the sudden passiveness, Chris jerked himself forward, but Wesker didn’t move from where he had returned a hand to the back of his head, face crinkled in confusion and pain.

“Give me the handset for Jill!”

Still confused, Wesker spat as he dropped his gaze to the ground, dizziness overcoming him, “What? I have no idea what you’re talking about? Where are we? You’re… you’re… old.”

Chris certainly was not expecting that and in a fit, snapped his leg up towards Wesker’s face, catching the older man’s lip and landing square in the nose, snapping the blond head back, his body quickly following the movement. Cursing through gurgles as blood flowed as hands covered the broken nose, Chris lowered his rifle slightly, somewhat amused, “I thought you would have dodged that.”

Wesker growled, having rolled onto his stomach, and hunching over, spitting out as blood quickly trickled down the back of his throat to fill his mouth, “Gob dammit, Rebfelb!!”

“What the hell are you playing at, Wesker?!”

Wesker shuffled away from Chris, not caring to get another boot in the face, “I’m not playing anything, you twit! What the fuck is going on!! Where ARE WE?!”

Chris dropped his rifle to his side, “You seriously are fucking with me right now!”

Using the wall to get back to his feet, Wesker staggered, gaping between Chris and his hands, “Sh-shit… what the… did you shrink?! Wait?!! Am I dead! Redfield am I Dead??!”

Rolling his eyes, Chris muttered, “No, you’re not dead! Not yet anyway!”

Pointing accusingly but losing his footing, “That is exactly what demon Chris would say!”

“Demon Chris?! What kind of dreams have you been having, Wesker?!”

Sheva’s voice crackled through Chris’s com, “Damnit, Chris did you get the remote?!” Huffing, Chris stalked towards Wesker, who was still obliviously staring down at himself, and swiping the device from the other’s belt, “Gimme that you asshole!”

Shuffling his feet to put more space between them, Wesker snarled, pressing a hand to the bridge of his nose, “How am I the asshole? You kicked me in the face!”

Grumbling and ignoring the oddness from his most loved hated enemy, Chris tapped a few buttons and Sheva quickly responded over the com, “Chris, get over here! She collapsed!”

Avoiding Wesker’s demands for an explanation, Chris gave him a wide berth as he made his way through the labyrinth, coming upon Sheva holding Jill against her chest and speaking in a low tone, “I’ve got you. You’re going to be ok, Jill.”

Chris dropped to a knee next to Jill and pulled her into his arms, “I’ve thought you were dead for so long!” Without giving her a moment to respond he quickly pressed his lips to hers, leaning back to press their foreheads together, “I love you, Jill. Never leave me again, please. My heart can’t handle much more of this!”

Jill smiled eyes sparkling as brought a hand up to cup his cheek, “I love you too, Chris.”

Wesker finally made it to where the three were conversing, dazedly wiping blood from his nose, the other hand pressed to the wall for balance, “What’s go—”

Upon seeing Wesker, Jill was up, a roundhouse kick catching Wesker’s cheek causing him to crack his head against the wall, losing his footing. Not letting him catch even a breath, Jill had gripped onto Wesker’s shirt pulling him up from where he had sagged against the wall, delivering several quick punches before Chris grabbed her wrist to pull her back from the groaning form.

Jill’s withdrawal let Wesker catch himself against the wall, sputtering as he folded shaking hands over his face, “What the hell??! Why do you all keep hitting me??!”

Sheva couldn’t say she hadn’t as she did plant a few rounds in his back to give Chris the chance he needed to take Wesker down. But this was certainly not what she was expecting.

Growling, Jill jerked towards the sprawled form, “Don’t act coy, you Fuck!!”

Jerking up towards Jill in fury, Wesker took shock at her lightened hair. She too looked older than he remembered, and certainly was never a blonde.

Slowly, the three backed up but moved quickly as they backtracked away from Wesker who sneered at them, eyes smoldering as he took wobbly steps to follow them back out into the open area.

“Albert, what are you doing?! Kill them already!” Excella shouted from the top of the stairs, seeing the surviving BSAA members.

Wesker jerked his gaze up the stairs at Excella, cringing at having to move his head, “What? Who are you?”

Her eyes widened, plucking at all the buttons on her device to get Wesker to react but he stood wavering in the doorway glaring up at her, confusion plastered across his bruised and bloodied face. Shrieking in fury, Excella smashed the device against the floor, pointing accusingly down at the trio, “Damnit! What have you done, Redfield?! You've ruined everything!”

Looking at Wesker and back up at the stationary figure, “What the hell!! I did WHAT?!”

The wrath of Excella refocused on Chris who was helping Jill stand as they widened the area between them and Wesker, Sheva pointing her pistol up the stairs to cover their movement, “It’s over, Excella! Surrender!!”

Excella shouted back down at them, “NEVER!!” Spraying shots between the four as they ducked for cover. Suddenly, her pistol clicked and without hesitation, Sheva rush up the stairs. Excella bolted to make her way to the open elevator, the door closing just as Sheva rounded the corner, “Get back here you bitch!”

Kicking at the now-closed doors, Sheva slammed a fist against it in frustration. Taking several deep breaths, she made her way back to look down at her comrades, and the apparently awakened tyrant who had settled to sit down once more, reeling from the several injuries he had accumulated.

Breathing raggedly, Wesker closed his eyes, teeth clenching, “Chris. Jill. Please. What… What the hell is going on?”

Eyeing him wearily, and keeping their distance, Chris finally spoke, “What do you last remember, Wesker?”

Opening his eyes to gawk back at the question, pressing his mind to conjure anything at all he could remember but was coming up with only jumbles of colors and voices, “I… don’t know. It’s a blur. I think… I have a concussion.” He winched as he pressed again to where Chris had hit him.

Chris glanced to Sheva who had rejoined them once more on the ground floor, “We need to stop Excella before she does something really stupid. What were your plans, Wesker?”

Stuttering as he grit his teeth, Wesker growled, “I don’t know!”

Jill pointed accusingly at Wesker, “Whose side are you on, Wesker?”

Blinking static from his vision, Wesker groaned, “I’m on… my side.”

Chris mumbled, snidely, “Does your ‘side’ involve murdering us?!”

Wesker quipped back irritably as he rose back up on unsteady feet, “If you stop trying to kill me... then no.”

Sheva being the only one able to drop the next card, yelled out, “Truce?”

Silence but upon distant rumbling that spoke of nothing good, the three ex-STARS responded in kind, “Fine.” “Only if you go first, Wesker.” “Agreed as long as I’m not shot in the back. Again.”

Being the initiator, Sheva brought up an arm directing Wesker towards the stairs, “Alright, let’s go get that bitch.”

Chapter Text

Upon reaching his safehouse after tearing through Arklay forest, Wesker collapsed, legs spread eagle as he looked down at the holes worn through his tactical pants and the burning chafing of his thighs from his newly enhanced speed.

Dialing William on his burner phone, he grumbled, “Will, I’m going to need the R&D department’s lightweight ballistic material designs.”

Will in confusion, “What the hell for? Aren’t you bulletproof now?”

Groaning as his chafed skin finally healed, “Not bulletproof. I’m going to need some reinforced clothes.”

“Wh-what?”

Sighing, Wesker mumbled as he fingered the large worn holes in his pants, “Let’s just say, chafing is definitely an issue.”

A deafening cackle filter through the line and Wester yanked the device away from his sensitive ear, “Goddamnit, Will! It’s not that funny!”

Wesker huffed in irritation and could hear William try to control his laughter when suddenly, he heard Annette ask in the background why William was laughing so hard, which upon a poorly uttered explanation induced more laughter.

At Annette’s shriek Wesker hung up, tossing the phone in anger which shattered upon hitting the floor and he cringed, “Shit!”

Looking at his grime-covered hands he sighed.

A shower was in order.

And new clothes.

Chapter Text

Hands curled down his chest from behind, one quickly yanking the zipper of his shirt down and snaked to press along his heated skin. The touch prickled his senses, and he did his best not to react. He irritably quipped at his uninvited guest, “Damnit, Excella! I am trying to work!”

She purred next to his ear, mouthing the shell of the sensitive skin, “What are you doing here? It’s late.” Usually, his head was out of range for her when he was standing, but currently, he was crouched over a microscope, waiting patiently for something, anything to happen.

Wesker couldn’t shift away from the creeping touch for fear his hours of hard work would come undone and he would have to start all over. This was the third time that day Excella had made quick handiwork of the zipper enclosing the specially reinforced clothing allowing him to move without worry it would be destroyed from the enhanced friction of his super speed.

She was getting to be an abhorrent distraction that he couldn’t afford to waste time on. His work was his life, but Excella seemed to have other things on her mind, and he could smell her arousal. Grumbling, he didn’t have time to placate her bodily desires.

Shifting back in the chair slowly he pushed her away gently, forcing her to remove her hands that had been dragging nails across his chest. Angling his shaded gaze up at her as she crossed her arms, he made it pointedly to zip his shirt back up with a scowling frown, “This is delicate work, and I can’t have you interrupting me.”

She stared down with glistening eyes, legs shifting as she undressed him with her eyes, biting her lip, “I missed you so much.”

Wesker had to remind himself not to react rashly or she would try to purposefully damage the work he had put in that day by tossing whatever he was working on off the counter space. She had done it before several times, and in fits of rage, she denied him the very thing he truly needed from her. His serum.

Sighing and rubbing his brows from the sudden headache that pulsed behind his eyes, he drawled, “Excella, we have been over th—"

But she did not let him finish, climbing up to straddle his thighs in the rolling chair now that he was set aways from the delicate lines of vials and microscopes, grinding herself against him, “Would you shut up and kiss me already?”

Wesker turned his head, avoiding her mouth as one hand gripped her by the jaw to stop her descent, teeth-baring in a snarl, his anger starting to flare up despite the repercussions she could bestow upon him for denying her what she craved.

He weighed his options in his head if he could hold her off just long enough to get some results back from his latest tests, which he feared he may have already missed by her incumbent distraction, “I will find you when I am finished.” He hoped that would give him enough time to complete the several more hours of tiring intricate work.

Excella was not pleased with her desire for him to be delayed but, she also understood the importance of such tedious work, “Promise?”

Wesker glared at her, silent and mouth downturned as he pushed her back off of him and she clumsily got back to her feet, her heels clicking against the floor as she righted herself. Wesker swiveled his attention back to his task and hissed in irritation as he looked into the scope.

Still waiting for an answer, Excella snorted, “Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment?”

Ignoring her, least she interrupts him again, Wesker continued his diligence of observing the reaction unfolding, sighing that he had missed the early stages of the replication.

With a huff, her heels started to click away, fading slightly until they jerked to a halt as she turned to face him, “If only you could give me half the love you have for yourself.”

Again silence was his reply, just a small scape as the chair moved slightly.

Quietly, she mumbled under her breath, “Half the love you give sniveling over your pointman.”

Excella had the breath knocked from her as she was slammed against the far wall, a low growl tickling her cheek and she moaned in ecstasy at the pain of being bodily pressed flat by the livid tyrant behind her, “Do not test me!”

Any mention of STARS or his former team were taboo topics, but Excella knew that it would always get a reaction from him, regardless of if he wanted to or not. It was compulsory on his part to react, an instant trigger, and he hated that she used it against him to get a response.

She drew in a struggling breath as a hand wrapped around her throat. Just how she liked him, angry and forceful. Voice tight, he squeezed her throat with a pulse of his fingers, “I will not hesitate to abandon you.”

She chuckled, pressing herself back against him, “You can’t leave me. You couldn’t live without me.”

Wesker squeezed her neck tighter just to not hear her voice any longer, and upon her vicious struggle to claw at his hands for air as she choked, he let her go, pushing her away to stumble to her knees. And she laughed at him, cackling past the strain of her abused throat, and she looked back at him in excitement, “Don’t stop now.”

Trying to keep rage in check, knowing that she loved to goad him into doing what she wanted, he took a breath in to realize his shirt was once more unzipped and parted, her eyes singling on one exposed nipple.

Furiously, he zipped the shirt back up and stalked away, abandoning his work to opt for something to keep his zipper from being so easily accessible.

Locking himself into the biolabs, away from her prying eyes, he paced, running his fingers through his hair, eyeing the animals that cowered back in their cages.

‘Hmmm.’

Chapter Text

Wesker didn’t know what tipped off the sudden resurgence of memories but the innate desire to inundate himself with the familiar scent and flavor of one of the few remaining cigarettes he had stashed away was undeniable.

Just like the person he had stolen them from.

Taking his time, he savored the minuscule taste of the original smoker before lighting the already burnt tip, ignoring the staleness. It was one of the few things he had collected over his time at STARS. And not quite sure why he had kept the half-smoked cigarettes, but on nights such as these, where the pull to reconnect was agonizing, he was glad he did.

He heard Excella and Jill coming before they spoke, “You are smoking? I have never seen you smoke before.”

Wesker inhaled ignoring the question, keeping his back towards them as he looked up into the clear night sky filled with millions of bright stars. Back in Raccoon, the light pollution was so thick only a fraction of starlight made it through.

Fingers brushed across his back, tracing the top of one of the four long scars that never fully faded, “Will you ever tell me—"

But before the question was finished, Wesker took several steps away, voice rasping, “Don’t…”

It was not the first time Excella had seen the scars, nor the first time to ask where he had gotten them. Another piece of the mysterious Albert Wesker he would deny her.

Excella scoffed, taking her leave, but Jill stood, glaring at Wesker’s back, the slight inflection of her breaths caught his attention and he turned, and she caught the unguarded gaze of a lost soul as he took another drag.

Wesker stepped towards her stationary, rigid form, and once close enough he blew the stale smoke out and she breathed it in with a quivering sigh. Closing her eyes, she turned her head away, fists clenched, nostrils flaring to drag in more of scent.

Upon reopening her gaze, Jill’s mouth set in a thin line, eyes sharp as she quietly whispered, “You’re weak.”

His demeanor immediately hardened, as smoke puffed from his mouth with each accusatory word, “So are you.”

She laughed, turning her back to follow after Excella, “No, I’m not. I don’t hide from my love. But you… you deny yours even exists.”

Jill snapped cool eyes over her shoulder to catch the blaze of hurt her words brought in the smoldering red, but he said nothing in return as he took a small drag, because he knew she was right.

Wesker turned back to the stars, scowling and taking another deeper drag, nearly to the filter. With a heavy heart, he flicked the cherry onto the ground, crushing it under his boot.

Looking at the last of the spent cigarette, he debated tossing it out into the darkness.

But finally, he decided it would be a fool’s errand if he did because he’d be back out in the early dawn light looking for it like it was the rarest diamond in the world.

Thinking upon Jill’s words, he pocketed the butt to replace it back in the box to join its brethren.

Chapter Text

Shifting away from Sheva, Chris stumbled through the catacombs, rubbing his chest where Wesker had kicked him, the tyrant closely stalking behind him.

After a minute of their cat and mouse game, and not able to get a good shot at Wesker, Chris whispered into his com, “Sheva? You listening? I need a distraction.”

“Chris, you are a distraction!” She grumbled back with a grunt but reluctantly agreed, taking a few shots at Wesker’s back after losing Jill at the other end of a long set of pathways.

Growling as several rounds peppered his back, Wesker swiveled, “You're merely postponing the inevitable!”

Now was Chris’s chance. Bullets didn’t seem to phase Wesker much, but Chris hoped he could at least take Wesker out long enough to get Jill to snap out of whatever spell she was under.

Trusting that Sheva was a good shot, Chris barreled at Wesker’s slightly hunched over form. Just as Wesker turned with a sneer and glowing hate-filled eyes, Chris brought the back of his rifle down as hard as he could against the back of Wesker’s head, dropping the tyrant with a puff of dust.

Chris jumped back, rifle up, but there was no movement from Wesker, who lay where he had crumpled. Taking a chance, Chris kicked one of Wesker’s boots, “Hey! Wesker!” Still, no movement, and Chris kicked the outstretched foot harder but there was no rousing from the body.

Looking around, Chris inched forward, crouching to press along Wesker’s neck for a pulse, and found it slow and steady. He patted against Wesker’s back, “Passed out, huh. I expected more from you.”

Suddenly a cough brought more dust up into his face, and Chris backed away, bringing the rifle muzzle up to aim at Wesker’s head. Red eyes cracked open, and several more coughs disturbed the dirt-covered path.

A groan escaped and Wesker brought a hand to the back of his head, hissing as he examined the rising contusion, “Sh-shit.” Looking around his surroundings, Wesker shuddered and slowly pushed up to sit back on his haunches, hands held in front of him as he looked down at himself, “Wh-what in the fucking hell?”

“Hands up, Wesker!”

Startled, Wesker hissed, bowing his head as he wrenched himself to look back at Chris who had his sight set on him center mass.

“Chr-Chris?! What—?”

Angry at the sudden passiveness, Chris jerked himself forward, but Wesker didn’t move from where he had returned a hand to the back of his head, face crinkled in confusion and pain.

“Give me the handset for Jill!”

Still confused, Wesker spat as he dropped his gaze to the ground, dizziness overcoming him, “What? I have no idea what you’re talking about? Where are we? You’re… you’re… old.”

Chris certainly was not expecting that and in a fit, snapped his leg up towards Wesker’s face, catching the older man’s lip and landing square in the nose, snapping the blond head back, his body quickly following the movement. Cursing through gurgles as blood flowed as hands covered the broken nose, Chris lowered his rifle slightly, somewhat amused, “I thought you would have dodged that.”

Wesker growled, having rolled onto his stomach, and hunching over, spitting out as blood quickly trickled down the back of his throat to fill his mouth, “Gob dammit, Rebfelb!!”

“What the hell are you playing at, Wesker?!”

Wesker shuffled away from Chris, not caring to get another boot in the face, “I’m not playing anything, you twit! What the fuck is going on!! Where ARE WE?!”

Chris dropped his rifle to his side, “You seriously are fucking with me right now!”

Using the wall to get back to his feet, Wesker staggered, gaping between Chris and his hands, “Sh-shit… what the… did you shrink?! Wait?!! Am I dead! Redfield am I Dead??!”

Rolling his eyes, Chris muttered, “No, you’re not dead! Not yet anyway!”

Pointing accusingly but losing his footing to stumble into the wall, “That is exactly what demon Chris would say!”

“Demon Chris?! What kind of dreams have you been having, Wesker?!”

Sheva’s voice crackled through Chris’s com, “Damnit, Chris did you get the remote?!” Huffing, Chris stalked towards Wesker, who was still obliviously staring down at himself, and swiping the device from the other’s belt, “Gimme that you asshole!”

Shuffling his feet to put more space between them, Wesker snarled, pressing a hand to the bridge of his nose, “How am I the asshole? You kicked me in the face!”

Grumbling and ignoring the oddness from his most loved hated enemy, Chris tapped a few buttons and Sheva quickly responded over the com, “Chris, get over here! She collapsed!”

Avoiding Wesker’s demands for an explanation, Chris gave him a wide berth as he made his way through the labyrinth, coming upon Sheva holding Jill against her chest and speaking in a low tone, “I’ve got you. You’re going to be ok, Jill.”

Chris dropped to a knee next to Jill and pulled her into his arms, “I’ve thought you were dead for so long!” Without giving her a moment to respond he quickly pressed his lips to hers, leaning back to press their foreheads together, “I love you, Jill. Never leave me again, please. My heart can’t handle much more of this!”

Jill smiled eyes sparkling as she brought a hand up to cup his cheek, “I’ll try not to.”

Wesker finally made it to where the three were conversing, dazedly wiping blood from his nose, the other hand pressed to the wall for balance, “What’s go—”

Upon seeing Wesker, Jill was up, a roundhouse kick catching Wesker’s cheek causing him to crack his head against the wall, losing his footing once more. Not letting him catch even a breath, Jill had gripped onto Wesker’s shirt pulling him up from where he had sagged against the wall, delivering several quick punches before Chris grabbed her wrist to pull her back from the groaning form.

Jill’s withdrawal let Wesker catch himself against the wall, sputtering as he folded a shaking hand over his face, “What… what the hell??! Why do you all keep attacking me??!”

Sheva couldn’t say she hadn’t as she did plant a few rounds in his back to give Chris the chance he needed to take Wesker down. But this was certainly not what she was expecting.

Growling, Jill jerked towards the sprawled form, “Don’t act coy, you Fuck!!”

Jerking his gaze up towards Jill in fury, Wesker took shock at her lightened hair. She too looked older than he remembered, and certainly was never a blonde.

Slowly, the three backed up but moved quickly as they backtracked away from Wesker who sneered at them, eyes smoldering as he took wobbly steps to follow them back out into the open area.

“Albert, what are you doing?! Kill them already!” Excella shouted from the top of the stairs, seeing the surviving BSAA members.

Wesker jerked his gaze up at Excella, cringing at having to move his head, “What? Who are you?”

Her eyes widened, and she plucked at all the buttons on her device to get Wesker to react but he stood wavering in the doorway glaring up at her, confusion plastered across his bruised and bloodied face. Shrieking in fury, Excella smashed the device against the floor, pointing accusingly down at the trio, “Damnit! What have you done, Redfield?! You've ruined everything! Always ruining things!”

Looking at Wesker and back up at the stationary figure, “I did WHAT?!”

Growling Excella spat out, “I guess it doesn’t REALLY matter at this point! He's already made the virus for me but was supposed to release it after KILLING all of you! Of course, as Spencer's dog he was a very good boy doing our dirty work! Until now that is!”

The wrath of Excella focused wholly on Chris who was helping Jill stand as they widened the area between them and Wesker, “I knew you would be trouble from the very moment he kept blubbering your name every chance he had! Bitching and moaning how much of a pain in the ass you were! I should have had you killed years ago!”

Chris could not grasp what Excella was spouting on about, but he dared not take his eyes off her.

A chirping chortle echoed as a round pinged against a lower step, and Chris, Sheva, and Jill shuffled back.

Sheva quickly pointed her pistol up the stairs to cover their movement, “It’s over, Excella! Surrender!!”

Excella shouted back down at them, “NEVER!!” Spraying shots between the four as they ducked for cover. Suddenly, her pistol clicked and without hesitation, Sheva rush up the stairs. Excella bolted to make her way to the elevators, the door closing just as Sheva rounded the corner, “Get back here you bitch!”

Kicking at the now-closed doors, Sheva slammed a fist against it in frustration. Taking several deep breaths, she made her way back to look down at her comrades, and the apparently awakened tyrant who had settled to sit down once more, reeling from the several injuries he had accumulated.

Breathing raggedly, Wesker closed his eyes, teeth clenching, “Chris. Jill. Please. What… What the hell is going on?”

Eyeing him wearily, and keeping their distance, Chris finally spoke, “What do you last remember, Wesker?”

Opening his eyes to gawk back at the question, pressing his mind to conjure anything at all he could remember but was coming up with only jumbles of colors and voices, “I… don’t know. It’s a blur. I think… I have a concussion.” He winched as he pressed again to where Chris had hit him.

Chris glanced to Sheva who had rejoined them once more on the ground floor, “We need to stop Excella before she does something really stupid. What were your plans, Wesker?”

Stuttering as he grit his teeth, Wesker growled, “I don’t know!”

Jill pointed accusingly at Wesker, “Whose side are you on, Wesker?”

Blinking static from his vision, Wesker groaned, “I’m on… my side.”

Chris mumbled, snidely, “Does your ‘side’ involve murdering us?!”

Wesker quipped back irritably as he rose back up on unsteady feet, “If you stop trying to kill me... then no, it does not.”

Sheva being the only one able to drop the next card, yelled out, “Truce?”

Silence but upon distant rumbling that spoke of nothing good, the three ex-STARS responded in kind, “Fine.” “Only if you go first, Wesker.” “Agreed as long as I’m not shot in the back. Again.”

Being the initiator, Sheva brought up an arm directing Wesker towards the stairs, “Alright, let’s go get that bitch.”

Chapter Text

The spectral form of Wesker appeared in the doorway, vivid in the dying light of the evening sun.

Chris gazed at the form as it silently approached him, examining with a small frown the spent mess his pointman let himself spiral into.

Disbelief quieted the usually mocking tone at the mess of half eaten food, empty liqueur bottles, and used tissues, “How did you manage to get frosting on the ceiling?”

Chris’s glazed eyes followed his dead lover who was scrutinizing the surrounding mess with a frown, and he suddenly imagined the tall blond dropping to his knees between his splayed legs to take his spent cock in his mouth to clean up the last of the mess.

Grumbling as Wesker avoided him to continue examining the ceiling, his cock twitched in interest at the sultry humming that vibrated over his skin.

Eyes widened behind the dark shades as they redirected to Chris’s naked form, “Oh… That is not frosting, is it?”

Mouth frothy from disuse, Chris blinked slowly, murmuring as he tightened his grip to stroke himself, “No... It’s not frosting.”

There was a silent stalemate for several moments, until finally, Wesker let his lips curl up, eyes returning to the ceiling and then down to Chris's building excitement.

"...Impressive."

Chapter Text

It was not hard to apprehend Excella after Wesker, Chris, Sheva, and Jill continued their pursuit. Sheva took great pleasure in taking a few good swings and rooted as Jill took out as much frustration as she could manage, but the joy of revenge dwindled quickly.

Still, in a very much confused state, Wesker wandered off through the facility. Everything was seemingly new yet also familiar as he eventually made his way to what he guessed was his private rooms. Sifting through his own belongings and rifling through drawers and papers and searching for what he wasn’t quite certain.

As time wore on, the lead that was still lodged in his back started to ache severely, and just as he was about to give up, he found it—them.

It was the crumpled pack of saved cigarettes hidden away in a secret compartment, and he opened the top to see that there were several spent butts and two partially smoked cigarettes.

He jiggled the pack, and the movement brought a stabbing ache between his shoulders, and a trickle of liquid worked its way down his spine. Enough that he wrapped his arms around himself, which pulled muscles tighter and increased the agony.

Stifling a moan by clenching his jaw, Wesker staggered towards where he saw a washroom, hand clenching the rumpled pack absently. Realizing the damage he was causing to the delicate paper, he placed the beloved object on the sink counter and glanced at his reflection. With disbelief, he absently brought his fingers up to trace age lines he didn't remember being there.

His brows pinched at the sudden deepening ache and slowly made to remove his shirt. None of the bullets had gone through and through and were thus festering. New skin having already started to heal over the damage.

Using his fingers, he tried to dig out the bullets, but they were too deep and too awkward to reach.

Hunching forward with a shuddering sigh, Wesker eyed the reflection in the mirror in irritation, “What do you want?”

Unsure how long Chris had been there staring at his futile attempts to dig lead out of his back, Wesker had no patience to deal with any more sarcastic outburst.

The brunet stood silent for a moment, examining the scars, partially healed wounds, and the rendering marks long fingers had left in their wake. As if Wesker was a skittish animal, Chris slowly made his way into the room until he stood directly behind him and hesitantly brought a hand up the trail of the older faded scars.

“Please… don’t…” A quiet plea.

“You died. And the worst thing… is that even after all… of everything you’ve done, I’m still… I still care.”

Snorting weakly, Wesker's frame trembled as fingers continued to trace the older scars, “Could have fooled me.”

Chris dropped his hand as pale shoulders slumped further and hands caught onto the sink, cracking it.

“Just let me do it.”

Hanging his head, Wesker nodded, hissing through clenched teeth, his frame rigid as another deep ache swept through him.

“Hold on, I’ll be back.” Turning, Chris left the stationary figure who looked ready to collapse.

Peering over his shoulder warily, Wesker swept the space for something to sit on. He could lay down, but if he did, he knew he wouldn't be getting back up, and he did not want to put himself into any more of a vulnerable state than he already had.

Not long after finding a stool and plunking himself upon it, Chris returned with a first aid kit, placing it on the sink counter next to where Wesker had leaned against it on folded arms.

The brunet froze and immediately caught sight of the crumple cigarette pack but said nothing as he popped open the kit. Removing his tactical gloves, he leaned over Wesker, who kept his tired gaze on each movement to wash his hands before drying them and sliding on a pair of nitrile gloves.

Trying to relax as hands felt around the wounds, Wesker finally reached a hand back, “Give me a stick.”

Their eyes met in the mirror, and Chris’s dropped immediately to the pack, and Wesker grumbled, “They’re old.”

Shrugging, Chris did as requested, lighting one for Wesker before handing it over, who took it gratefully.

“I’m going to have to reopen these.”

Setting more on the sink counter, Wesker muttered tiredly, “Get on with it. They’re starting to  fester.”

Nodding, Chris worked as quickly as he could, reopening the bullet holes and ignoring the growling noises from the mostly hidden countenance, but he could see the clenched eyes in the mirror, the cigarette forgotten between clasped fingers.

Managing to remove the three rounds, the last one exceptionally deep, Chris flattened his hand over thick gauze, pressing gently to ensure the adhesive gripped the slick skin.

“Why do you linger?” A simple enough question for the brunet, and he replied with a simple answer.

“Is it so wrong for me to want to save you?”

Eyes met in the mirror once more, and whispering, Wesker could not deny the small hope in the brunet’s gaze, “It is not.”

The hand remained a bit longer before reaching over the blond’s shoulder to snatch up the old pack, and before Wesker could stop the younger man from opening to see the contents, he stopped, half twisted on the stool, expression distraught as Chris poured the old cigarettes into a waiting palm.

“Why did you keep these?”

Unsure himself, Wesker dared not move, sucking in tight, hissing breaths, “I… don’t know.”

The atmosphere became thick, and Wesker made to snatch the items back, but Chris moved out of range, causing the blond to hiss and arch his back, “Well, when you do, you know where to find me. Thief.”

That was how Chris left him, shirtless and exhausted with a mostly spent cigarette between his fingers. At one time, it had been the other way around.

Pushing loosened hair from his forehead, Wesker grumbled darkly at the retreating figure, “Fuck.”

Chapter Text

Nothing could have prepared him for how things would turn out that cold rainy fall day.

Not the request to do patrols after so many officers were out sick with a nasty flu strain.

Nor becoming a participant in the high-speed chase of a stolen car. Which is why he found himself facing off against said stolen vehicle that was currently hydroplaning directly toward him as he stood before a patrol vehicle blocking the car’s oncoming path.

There were few choices as he stared down the driver, a kid, mid-teens at most, frightened out of their mind as the tires blew from crossing over spikes. He’d hoped to incapacitate further but couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger.

There really weren’t any good options, but he would much rather have use of his legs than take chances of losing them altogether crushed between two vehicles.

With his utmost dexterity, Wesker attempted to slide across the hood to avoid having his shins shattered, but due to the slickness of the roads, the vehicle was fishtailing, and instead of traversing safely across the hood as intended, physics dictated otherwise.

His hip collided with the windshield, shattering the glass, and he found himself tumbling over the opposite side of the car, side catching on the passenger side mirror, the force of which ripped the mechanism away completely.

He landed hard. The wind knocked out of him as he rolled to a stop sprawled half on his side, face down, having somehow managed to not be dragged underneath. Skin was raw where it had been unprotected, a wrist burning from catching on the asphalt. The one day he didn’t feel the need to wear gloves was exactly the day he should have.

Bright lights flashed towards him, blinding him. His shades were shattered against the ground somewhere. An oncoming police car swerved to avoid hitting him, and on instinct he wrapped a hand across his face to protect himself from further damage, despite the uselessness of the action.

There was no impact, just a fine spray of water as the screeching tires smashed against concrete. A loud popping as one burst from the impact.

Air was suddenly scarce as he attempted to fill his lungs but couldn’t quite drag in more than a small amount and he could hear himself wheezing as he made to push himself upright, mind numbing as it echoed over and over as he tried to process his suddenly fuzzy vision, ‘I can’t breathe, I can’t bre—’

Managing to shuffle himself onto his hands, he reversed away until his back met a solid mass and he stopped, leaning against it, a hand flat against his heaving chest as his eyes watered, scattering across the police vehicle barely ten feet from where he had landed.

Distantly he felt pain in his side, his hips, his arm that took the brunt of his weight when he’d landed, but they were secondary to getting oxygen back into his lungs, adrenaline pumping through to every cell, and the rage of knowing this was not what he’d signed up for. He wasn’t a fucking grunt, and he certainly wasn’t a beat cop.

Everything was swirling, and he ran a hand down his damp face, closing his eyes, teeth grinding at the sting of his cheek and trembling fingers tested at how bad it was.

“Wesker!!”

He heard footsteps thundering and muffled yelling, but they seemed far away.

Having managed to get some air back into his lungs but still wheezing, he grunted as he shifted to get his feet under him.

The kid!

Eyes widened in terror, pain ignored as he used the broken window frame to wrench himself upright, but what he saw through the window froze him to his heart and soul while letting out a shaky groan of relief.

The kid was strapped in the driver’s seat, hands and bodies surrounding the other side as the airbag was being deflated. Unconscious but seemed to be breathing.

He was breathing. The kid was breathing.

That’s all he cared about as he let himself sink back down to his knees, pressing his heated forehead against the wet metal and he hunkered down to wrap his arms around his aching torso.

“Fuck!”

Slamming an open palm against the metal, the throbbing in his hips forced him to shift to sit on his ass, uncaring as dampness soaked further into his pants as he used the car as a crutch to stop sudden vertigo that had his head spinning as he snarled.

“Wesker!!”

Hands were on him, wrenching him from the stability of the car door, and automatically, he struck a palm upward, missing the frightened gaze of his subordinate and pointman, Chris Redfield, who now had a fistful of his jacket to keep him steady as he tetter-tottered unsteadily.

“Wesker! Thank God!”

Growling, he slapped at the hands and yanked himself from the younger man’s grip, unsteadily propelling himself to his feet to storm away, ignoring the inflaming pain licking up his spine and down his legs.

“Wesker! Wait!”

His brain knew he needed to get out of the street, somewhere safe and away from cars. Limping as he paced, ignoring the fawning of the brunet who was trying to examine the scrapes marring the usually flawless skin, “Goddamnit! Hold still!”

A finger was jabbed into Chris’s chest to keep him at arm’s length, “This is fucking bullshit!”

Snapping as Wesker sneered over Chris’s shoulder at the mass of police and emergency techs floundering around the half-demolished vehicle. He really hoped the owner had good insurance.

“Wesker, you need to get checked out.”

The response was flat, eyes glazed as he took in the entirety of the scene, “I’m fine.”

“What do you mean you’re fine?! You are not fine!!”

Wild blue snapped back to glare at the brunet who took a step back, hands raised as pale nostrils flared.

“I’m fine.” It was said with finality. And Chris turned to look to see if there were any free personnel that could convince Wesker otherwise, but they were all focused on the driver.

“Shit, just let them take a look.”

The death glare he received was telling.

It was an understatement to say Chris was concerned, “You landed really hard.”

With little warning, Wesker became ferocious, bellowing, “I know, I was there!!!”

“Just—”

Pushing haphazard strands of hair off his forehead, pinching brows with a grimace, Wesker sighed, “Take me back to the station.”

“What?!”

Getting up in Chris’s face, Wesker practically spat, “Take. Me. Back. Now.”

Sudden fear gathered in Chris’s chest as normally hidden pale blue were now bare and dilated and had him centered in their cross hairs. Unconsciously, Chris’s hands shot up placatingly.

“Wesker… Sir, you need to let the EMS check you out.”

Eyes narrowed dangerously as Wesker forced past the younger man unsteadily, “I’ll do it myself.”

Panicking as he watched the normally smooth gait take choppy steps that became more jerky and uneven as they stomped further away and towards the patrol car he’d been driving that had been parked away from the oncoming path.

“Wesker? Wesker?! Wait!”

A middle finger flipped up over the blond’s shoulder as he clomped away, and finally huffing, Chris gave chase, “At least fucking let me drive you! Insufferable asshole!”

Whirling and almost falling, Wesker jabbed a finger back at the brunet, “Line crossed, Redfield! Now shut up, or I’ll write you up for insubordination!”

Gazing around the commotion helplessly, Chris could only gape as Wesker took unsteadily back-stiffened baby steps towards the patrol car, a hand pressing against his lower back.

Wesker had taken a pretty rough knock, and no one, not even the picture-perfect Albert Wesker, could truly walk off something like that. Glancing at the shattered windshield as he passed, Chris felt his heart jolt at the large spiraling circle from where Wesker’s body had impacted against the glass.

It was a miracle the man was even on his feet.

There was loud slapping as Wesker bellowed, hand smacking the top of the vehicle, “I’m waiting!”

The tone was unusual even for Wesker, sharp and strained, and Chris trotted back towards him, gazing as the blond flopped bonelessly into the passenger seat, face scrunching in agony and back arching as he took a moment to reach out and close the door.

“Fucking moron,” Chris muttered colorfully under his breath as he yanked the driver’s side open.

Shuffling into the seat, Chris soaked in the rigid posture of his boss, hands clenching bone-white into the material covering his thighs, breaths fast through those flared nostrils as the older man pressed his head against the rest hard enough to make it creak.

“You sure you don’t want to get checked out?”

The question caused Wesker to flinch jarringly, a small sound escaping as his head turned to glare blazing-glassy eyes at the younger man with the utmost scorn, “Drive.”

It was a very uncomfortable car ride, silent minus the tight hisses and swallowed groans when they would hit a pothole or uneven pavement, and he’d catch the jerky shaking as long legs pressed almost hard enough to lift the blond’s ass out of his seat.

It didn’t take long to reach the precinct, and he pulled up to the front to allow for easy passage up to the office, but Wesker didn’t seem to notice. Body tense and trembling as a hand grasped a pant leg, the other wrapped tightly into the oh-shit bar, eyes clenched shut tightly. If he looked hard enough, he swore he saw the glistening of tears.

“Wesker?”

Sucking in wetly through his teeth, the older man ground out, “What!”

“We’re here.”

The tall figure slowly unfurled, avoiding the concerned gaze, and flung the door open. Using the frame, Wesker managed to drag himself from the vehicle as if it were a suddenly too-tight space.

Chris couldn’t see the blond’s face but glanced at the rigidness as he stood in the door before taking a seemingly gaping step onto the curb, holding onto the door.

“You sure you don’t—”

SLAM

Gazing after the figure as he stumbled past the gates, taking slow, calculated steps, he knew what he had to do, but he’d give Wesker his space. For now. The man was as stubborn as they come, and he definitely needed to at least be seen.

Swearing, he waited until Wesker made it into the building before pulling away to return to the accident scene. Once it was cleaned up he would return back to the office to check up on Wesker, making sure he didn’t bite it at his desk doing paperwork for his own death. And he’d ask one of the EMS to tag along.

Sighing heavily, Chris thought about all the things that could have gone wrong, but at least Wesker was walking, obviously sore and in pain, but walking. Well, more like stumbling, but upright. And breathing.

Chapter Text

By the fourth incredulous stare, Wesker exploded, “What the fuck are you staring at??!”

Wanting to throw his hands up in exasperation, but they were glued to his side where his ribs ached with every labored breath from where they impacted with the passenger side mirror. Maybe, just maybe, he overreacted a bit, vacating the scene too quickly.

NO!

It was all bullshit!

He was fine!

Storming away from the flabbergasted faces as he stalked past them and up the stairs, each step becoming more difficult than the last, and he had to use all his willpower not to stop as he stomped up to the second floor where the STARS office was. Literally pulling his way using the banister.

Except now he walked straight past it and directly into the locker room to inspect just how bad he really looked.

There was someone in the shower and on the other side of the line of lockers as he hissed his way towards the sinks and full-length mirror, and even before he managed to come in full view, just his face was enough to halt him in his tracks.

“Son of a bitch!”

He looked awful. Like he’d been hit by a car. Well, because he was hit by a car.

“Shit!”

He staggered up to the mirror, planting a hand to lean against the wall as he inspected the damage.

An untimely voice startled him, “Everything alright over there?”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Wesker managed a tad higher than he wanted, “It’s fine! I’m… fine. Everything’s fine.”

There was no further response and no shuffle of feet closing in on him, so he had a sense of slight privacy as he turned his face to inspect the road rash that streaked across one cheek, pressing it gently with trembling fingers, hissing as the muscles twitched.

There was sand and mud dried on the abrased skin, and he sucked on his teeth as he lowered even further toward the mirror to inspect it closer, but the movement caused his ribs to shift, and he had to swallow a moan as his back bowed, pressing his forehead against the reinforced glass.

He’d momentarily become entranced by the amount of damage to his cheek now that he was inches away from his reflection, and his ribs had become a secondary ache, that is, until he moved, of course.

Now he understood Chris’s concern, though any hidden injury was by far more hindering now as he shifted his legs in hopes of lessening the tremble of his legs.

Eyes dropping, he unzipped his jacket, slowly pulling his button-down from where he’d tucked into his pants that morning as he always did.

Gripping the material with blood-crusted fingers, he pulled the shirt to reveal his undershirt, which he lifted with his other hand to reveal heavily bruised skin, and a breath stuttered as his abdomen contracted with the comprehension of the sizable darkening mass.

“Captain Wesker?”

Gulping at sudden panic as if he’d been caught doing something unsavory, he tried to swivel but only managed to turn at the voice, hands releasing fabric for the bruising to be covered from the eyes of the newcomer to re-catch his balance on the wall.

“Kenneth? Wh-what are you doing here?”

Wesker silently cursed himself at the catch in his breath, and his eyes narrowed at the Bravo team chemist, clenching a fist that his privacy was interrupted.

“Looks like you took a nasty fall.”

Kenneth observed the narrowed eyes, clenched teeth, and sweat beading at the blond’s temples, “You should go see Terry.”

Swallowing thickly and avoiding eye contact, he turned toward the mirror, stiffening further, “Duly noted.”

Ignoring the Bravo member, who has crossed his arms, observing as Wesker shuffled to the sink.

Maneuvering the faucet to spit out warm water, Wesker bit his tongue as he leaned over as far as he was able to splash water on his cheek, gently tapping fingers along the raw skin to soften the dried blood and release any gravel that had become trapped in the wound. He did the same to his wrist and any remaining blood and dirt off his hands.

Silence permeated the lockers, minus the shower running and another unidentified officer shuffling through their locker and the sink faucet.

Feeling that he managed to remove most of the debris from his cheek and wrist, he turned the faucet off to grab several hand towels to dab at the wounds seeing the small imprints where torn skin bled anew.

Trying to create as wide a berth as possible as he made to exit, Kenneth spoke, “Seriously, Captain Wes—”

Wesker suppressed the full-bodied quiver as he attempted to saunter past, only for a hand to spring out to practically clothesline him, dragging a choked sound from deep in his chest as he staggered, hand catching against a locker as his body tottered towards the side.

Seething and tight-lipped, Wesker bore holes into Kenneth’s chin, the two inches the older man had on him giving him an advantage not to have to stare directly into the other’s eyes, “Let. Me. Pass.”

“Captain, I insist you see Terry.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Wesker rasped, “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Sullivan, but I am an adult and can take care of myself. Now with all due respect, let me fucking pass so I can go back to my office. Please.”

The last word was barely a wheezed breath. Normally hidden eyes were glassy and almost desperate, gazing from his peripheral. Breaths heaved and legs trembled the longer he was prevented from sitting, and he was becoming more and more irate just as he was about to spit a string of colorful curses, and the hand dropped, and he was allowed to pass without any further exchange.

“Thank you, Kenneth.”

It took all his control and dignity not to bolt for the exit towards the STARS office, yet still made a poorly masked bowed-backed shuffle as his ribs and pelvis ached. All he wanted right then was to sit down. Preferably on something very soft and comfortable, but his office chair would do.

There was no way at that moment he was going to walk back down the bloody stairs. Nor drive himself home, for that matter.

“Fuck.”

Stumbling through the main office door, Wesker leaned back against it, head angled upward as he swallowed down a sudden increase in saliva, eyes shut only to be wrenched open as his head space tilled. Vertigo. This was not good.

His side ached severely but not nearly as horrible as the brutal agony radiating from his lower back and hips. As if someone was prying his pelvic bones apart. Teeth chattering, he dropped his head to gaze at his open office door and the suddenly very inviting chair.

It took quite a bit of momentum to rock his full weight back onto his feet to push off the door and towards his desk. Hands reached out to practically push himself forward by pressing against the wall, the doorframe, and his desk, before dropping down into his chair with a wavering cry as he jolted backward, only to be halted by the straight-backed tension he had always insisted upon.

Hands fumbled with leavers to find the proper one to allow himself to recline backward and take pressure off his lower back.

Which did not help one bit as he was propelled into a 130-degree angle, and he hissed, trying to shift his hips to find a better position and failing utterly.

He needed a distraction.

Paperwork.

Yes, paperwork.

Paperwork for the damn police chase.

The damn accident.

And the fucking incident report for his broken ass.

Anything to take his focus off the agony licking up his sides and his entire core.

*****

Chris was exhausted. He’d been shuffling between officers that remained on the scene to question each and everyone why no one had taken a second to give two shits about the blond STARS Captain who had tumbled over the hood of the out-of-control vehicle.

Almost everyone gave him a questioning look, asking ‘who?’ or ‘what blond?’ except for a sheepish rookie who was leaning against the outside wall front of a close by boutique, eyes widened in absolute fear. Guilt was immediately apparent at the question, eyes dropping and head nodding, admitting he’d frozen up.

He was the one driving the squad car behind the stolen vehicle, tires torn and the front end half on the curb. He’d almost hit Wesker and had been so frightened he’d sat in the squad car, hand clenching the wheel in a vice grip. And by the time he unfucked himself, Wesker was long gone.

“He just came outta nowhere, man! I… I could’a killed the guy. Just… I… shit!”

Patting the guy’s shoulder as he rolled his eyes, Chris yep’ed and yup’ed and recommended seeing the office psych to get it all off his chest. Can’t have an office on the streets if he freezes up when shit gets rough.

Sighing, Chris shuffled back to the stolen vehicle that was being pulled up onto a flatbed to take it down to the yard.

Popping a cigarette between his lips, he was about to light it when his pocket buzzed, and he fumbled with the phone as it rattled off the most annoying ringtone available in the options list so that he’d know who was calling and to answer right away.

“Yep?”

Instead of a verbal beating or request or anything. It was just rasping, wet breaths on the line.

“Capt’n?”

More puffing and a tight groan, “Chris…”

Not quite sure what the other man’s attitude quite was, he defaulted to sarcasm, “Sounds like you ran a marathon, Cap. Everything alright?”

The was a high pitch wheeze and a half chuckle that bit off into a groan, “Goddamnit, Redfield!”

Making his way back to his vehicle, Chris leaned the cell against his shoulder to manage to light his cigarette, words muffled, “What’s up, Wesker? You’re never this quiet when you call me.”

His own statement startled him to a halt, and Chris reclaimed the phone after complete silence, “Wesker?”

“Chris, I… need you to come back to the office. I…”

Concern growing at the terseness in the other man’s voice, Chris walked faster, “What’s wrong?”

“You damn well know—FUCK!”

There was a loud thump on the line and clattering and a strangled yell, and Chris froze, shouting into the line to get Wesker to answer, “Wesker!! What happened?! Wesker! Answer me, damnit!!”

“Chris… I—just get back here now!” It was a tight, moist response. Something was definitely wrong. Chris had never, ever heard Wesker make that noise.

Yes, Wesker had been banged up when he’d dropped him at the station, but he was upright and walking.

Chris used his big brother voice, and it was surprisingly very effective in getting people to answer him, even his grumpy stiff-backed captain, “What. Happened.”

There was a deep rumble on the line, “I fell. I… don't think I can get back up.”

Gazing ahead unblinking, Chris was unsure how to take such a statement. Believing Wesker was being overly dramatic, Chris chuckled slightly, continuing his march back to his vehicle, “So you’re calling to tell me you’ve fallen and can’t get up? That joke is overplayed, Cap.”

An abrupt furious, agonized sound erupted on the line, followed by several bangs, and Chris had to pull the cell away from his ear so as not to be deafened by it.

Snarling with utmost rage, Wesker bellowed into the line, “I’m not fucking joking! Something is very, very wrong, Chris. I… think something’s… broken or fractured or something. F-fuck!”

All the hairs on Chris’s neck stood on end, “Are you fucking serious! Weske—!!”

“Just get back here, damnit!”

*Click*

Activating the sirens on the squad car, Chris returned to the precinct in record time, practically galloping up the stairs and almost falling flat on his face as he tripped on the last few steps.

Shoes squeaking on the flooring, he bumped into the STARS door when the handle didn’t turn on the first try and, fumbling, finally managed to turn it to swing the door wide.

Gazing around the office for the tall blond, Chris found him slumped against his desk, phone on the floor where he’d pulled it from his desk.

He looked as if he’d just been mugged. Or murdered. The normally pristine captain was a mess, clothes askew, hair tangled, and a pallor cheek, a red mar of raw skin, pale eyes closed, and the body slumped.

“Wesker!”

Those eyes shot open, bloodshot and dilated as they snapped onto the oncoming brunet who shuffled to his knees directly in front of him, and Wesker couldn’t stop the wince despite Chris not touching him, “Shut up. You’re too loud.”

Eyeing the blond further, noticing the enlarged pupils, “What did you take?”

Wincing and turning away from the still-too-loud voice, “Pain meds.”

“What did you take?! How much did you take?!”

“It’s in my desk. Green label. A few, a lot. I… don’t remember.”

“Christ Wesker! I need to know, damnit in case they have to pump your stomach!”

Shuffling to his feet, Chris stumbled around the desk and yanked open every drawer until he found the described bottle.

“No. No. It’s fine. I didn’t… take THAT many. Though, still feels like someone’s cracking my pelvis open like a fucking walnut.”

“Shit Wesker! These are fucking blood thinners!!”

Shuffling back to Wesker’s side, Chris dropped to his knees and quickly wrenched open his superior’s clothes.

Fumbling, Wesker’s cheeks reddened slightly, but his struggling proved fruitless as Chris yanked his shirt open and popped buttons flying everywhere, “What the hell are you doing?!”

Pulling the material of Wesker’s undershirt up, he cursed at the darkened skin that was further hidden by the blond’s waistband, “Checking for bruising, dumbass!”

Hands immediately went for Wesker’s belt as Chris rumbled darkly, cursing Wesker’s stubborn ass.

Dazed as he observed the sudden frantic undressing, Wesker let his hands drop to his sides as he leaned back further against his desk, “Yeah, well. Warn me next time you decide to get my pants off, will you.”

Chris mumbled cheeks flushed from rushing up the stairs. That is what he told himself anyway, “There are much easier and much better ways of LETTING me get into your pants.”

Eyes shut, but eyebrows rose up in curiosity, “Oh, and they are?”

Huffing at having difficulty with pulling thick material over dead weight, Chris puffed, “At least, buy me a nice big drink and a greasy burger first.”

Wesker chuckled before sucking on his lower lip, eyes still fluttered closed and only a sliver visible, watching Chris fumble getting his pants down, “Do-don’t make me laugh. Laughing hurts. Oh, shit, fuck… ah-AH-owww.”

“No shit, you dolt.”

The groan tapered off into a muffled whimper as Chris finally dragged pants down, causing Wesker’s ass to shift and thighs to be pulled together, and upon hearing the thud as Wesker’s head thumped back against the desk, Chris’s ministrations froze, eyes jolting up.

Staring at the trembling figure with his pants half down his thighs, Chris pulled up the rumpled clothes further away to see several large splotchy bruises marring normally perfectly pale skin.

Muttering in self-loathing, Chris spat, “I should've never let you walk away. Moron.”

Tilting his head forward slightly, Wesker eyed the younger man dangerously, “Hey! I’m your direct superior show some manners while you’ve got your hands down my pants!”

Unable to help smirking, fingers gently ran along the elastic waistband, hazel eyes flicking up to Wesker’s stern face and back down to where he was stretching open the blonde’s undergarments, “says the guy who can’t fucking stand up and downed a handful of pain meds… you’re lucky I don’t stick my fingers down your damn throat! Assh—holy shit!!

Startled by what he was seeing, his eyes couldn’t be dragged away even if he wanted to.

Slowly, pale eyes drooped downward to observe what Chris was so worried about, voice rasping, “W – wh-what is it? What’s wrong?”

Keeping eye contact with Wesker’s exposed genitals, Chris bit off tersely, “Are your balls normally this big?”

Blue flitted upward, but Chris kept his eyes on the not-so-prize he was gazing at, and so Wesker glared back downward to understand what the whole upset was about, “Wh-what?”

Dark boxers were yanked down further to reveal that Wesker’s scrotum was indeed quite large, and the skin darkened to a purplish black.

“Oh my.”

Flustered at the lackluster response, Chris’s let the elastic snap back against bruised skin, which jolted Wesker and yanked a seething shout from a scrunched grimace.

“Oh my!! Just ‘oh my’!!!”

Eyes cinched closed, Wesker breathed through his nostrils, which flared widely, “Yes, Christopher, I do have rather large testicles. However, they are not normally this big. Or dark.”

Scrambling over Wesker’s legs for the phone, Chris bellowed, “We have to call an ambulance! Right Now!”

Hands fumbled with the sudden stretch of weight, Wesker slapped at Chris until he removed himself completely, “What? Why?”

That panic returned as Chris shouted from the side where the phone had landed upon being pulled from the desk, “Idiot, you have internal bleeding! You could fucking die from bleeding out!”

“Oh. Well, that is definitely concerning.”

The response was… odd, and Chris halted his frantic reach for his cell to call whoever’s name showed up first as he looked deeply into the thin rings of blue gazing up at him, face pale and sweat dribbling down the clenched jaw to slide down the bobbing throat as Wesker’s breath’s quickened, breaths puffing fast and hard against Chris’s face.

Eyes drifted from Chris’s face to gape straight forward, settling into a full-body trembling, “You should stop staring and probably make that call right about now. Vertigo’s… getting worse.”

“Shit! Shit! Shit! Wesker? Wesker! Look at me! LOOK AT ME! Wesker??! FUCK!!”

The ringing before someone answered took too long for Chris’s liking as Wesker moved in slow motion, and he was yelling demands for an ambulance immediately to the precinct.

It took too long for Chris’s liking for emergency services to arrive at the STARS office.

Everything took too fucking long.

Waiting, he knew he needed to elevate Wesker’s pelvis above his heart to slow the bleeding. At least he hoped it would work, and he ran out to grab Barry’s back pillow from his chair and stuffed it under Wesker’s hips, having pulled the blond to lay flat on his back, cradling his head as he did so and stuffing his rolled-up jacket under the mop of limp, damp blond hair.

Eyes snapped to him, but Wesker was silent, staring glassily as Chris yanked his pants off the rest of the way before feeling him down for any external bleeding and thankfully finding none, just darker bruising.

If in any other circumstance, Wesker might have very well enjoyed such attention from the hot-headed brunet. Perhaps even chuckling at the hilarity of the situation.

But when Chris mumbled something about blood thinners, he realized the severity of Chris’s concern. Yes, he was bleeding internally, and the only place for it to go was apparently his balls. Just lovely.

He could have very well likely sped up his own demise by taking those damn pills. A hearty handful at that. Well over the recommended dose.

Blue eyes left the younger man who had stepped back out of his range of vision as faceless bodies exploded around him and tried to ignore the shifting of his body, which felt so incredibly heavy now. He gazed up at the fluorescent lighting. The brightness burned his eyes the longer he stared. To the point, they watered as he squinted.

Something disrupted the light, and he blinked several times to clear his vision before it was blindingly bright, and just as quickly as the light brightened, everything went black.

Chapter Text

It felt like someone had stuffed his head with a moist cotton balls and packed it so tightly it was clogging his ears and tickling his nose. He could hear warbled, frustrated mutters that sounded distant, that is until one filtered through the wad of cotton and straight into his right ear.

The sudden burst of sound was deafening, and he jerked away from it despite the leaden weight of his murky consciousness and stiff neck. The motion of which caused his vocal cords to contract in a gritty seething moan of pure misery as the movement caused a full body convulsion, and with it, a shock of intense pain.

Heavy eyelids squinted open as his hands quivered as they reach down to where the pain resonated from the most only to catch on to something that shouldn’t be there. The pain erupted into blazing white agony and the prolonged moan turned into a ragged wail as he arched his head back.

“Woah! Woah! Cap! Calm down!”

Hands fumbled with his own to ward them away from the device that halted him from reassuring that his testicles were intact as it was the last thing his drugged mind remembered, of them being purple and swollen from excess blood.

Squinting further against florescent lighting, glazed pale eyes traversed over ruffled blankets and wires and tubes to observe the cause of his suffering. A metal device crisscrossed the expanse of his pelvis and as he attempted to process what he was quite gawking at, his jaw quivered, voice warbling, “Wh-what the hel—?”

And then, his gaze navigated to the person holding his hands firmly to his chest, and panicked hazel answered his question of who dared manhandle him. Redfield.

Breathing heavily, he gazed back in minute relief that he wasn’t tucked away in some unknown facility out of reach of his team. He swallowed this down thickly trying not to let such memories trickle into the mental processing of his current situation.

Slowly, Wesker realized it wasn’t just Chris there, but a small gaggle of STARS all wide-eyed in shock at their captain’s sudden awakening after being in a medically induced coma for a week.

Even the medical staff stood rigid at the scene as Wesker seethed another rasping sound through clenched teeth as he attempted to collapse in on himself only for his legs to refuse his commands, halted by the pressure of cuffs around his ankles.

“Calm down, Cap. Or you’ll hurt yourself more. Deep breath. Come on big boy. You can do it.”

The obnoxious statement fluttered into his cotton-filled ears and he wrenched a hand away to slam the heal of his palm into the brunet’s forehead, snapping the younger man’s head back, which caused Chris to tumble back and onto his ass with a loud thump, thus releasing the hold on Wesker’s hands.

“Oww.”

There were several gasps that caught Wesker’s attention, and his narrowed gaze snapped to the rest of his observers, “If this was supposed to be a surprise party, you’ve all done a really shitty job.” This was spoken in an attempt to sound sarcastic, but it came out as warbled uncertainty with a lick of panic underneath.

Wesker ignored the shuffling of Chris next to his bed as he regained his feet as he was assisted up by Barry who was chastising the brunet with an ‘I told ya not to get too close.’

“What’s the last thing you remember, Mister—?”

An unfamiliar voice brought pale eyes back to the gaggle of doctors, and he corrected them immediately, “Doctor if you’ll please.”

“Yes, Doctor… Wesker, what is the last thing you remember?”

The pale gaze drifted exhaustedly back to the gleaming metal that shifted with every breath and minute movement. It was nothing short of surreal.

“The last thing I remember… is… my balls the size of a cantaloupe, and not in a good way.” He was exaggerating, of course, but it enabled his point to be made regarding the inquiry and reduce the building panic pickling in the back of his head.

Suddenly, blankets were yanked away, and uncaring he had partially exposed himself to ensure he was of course intact. But Wesker could only gawk slack-jawed at the damage, or the lack thereof. His balls were thankfully back to their normal size. There were a few small, stapled incisions, slight redness where the metal was anchored into his skin, and massive bruising.

“I… don’t understand.”

One of the nurses ushered his subordinates out and he watched them go with a deeply concerned frown. Jill, Chris, Barry, Enrico, Kenneth, and Edward shuffled out murmuring quietly.

An older male doctor sat at the edge of the chair Chris had vacated to try and keep himself level with Wesker’s weary yearning for more information until the blond couldn’t take the silence any further and hissed, “Tell me.”

Sighing, the doctor rambled, “You were rushed in a week ago with internal bleeding, a pelvic fracture, broken ribs. This,” and reaching across the bed rail, the doctor pointed at the device, daring not to touch it, “is keeping your pelvis from slipping out of place to ensure it heals properly.”

Visibly deflating, Wesker scowled at the device, ignoring a nurse who resituated the blankets further up on his hips to cover his exposed genitals and checked his vitals and IV lines.

“I’m… sorry, Dr. Wesker, but you are not going anywhere anytime soon.”

Now it all made sense, the lead up to what had caused such a traumatic injury, and his hands clasped the bed rails to have something to hold onto, as his eyes squinted down his body, seething as his shoulders stiffened as his ribs screamed at him, “I’m going to murder that fat tub of lard!”

The doctor raised his brows in mild curiosity to the viciously snarled statement, especially since there was no additional context, “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

The burning gaze swiveled back to the doctor, “Why are my ankles cuffed?”

“To prevent their movement. You certainly wouldn’t stay still otherwise.”

Scoffing, Wesker sneered back down as he flexed his ankles, “Could they be loosened? They are uncomfortably tight.”

Turning, the doctor pressed a button and laid the device within Wesker’s reach as it had dwindled to just them.

A nurse appeared in the doorway, “You called?”

“Tess, would you be so kind as to switch Dr. Wesker’s cuffs to the other set?”

“You betcha. Be back shortly.” And Tess quickly disappeared.

“Do you have any other questions, Dr. Wesker?”

Sneering as he attempted to shift his legs and receiving a sharp twang in answer, his voice tightened, “Just one thing.”

“And what is that?”

Turning towards his attending doctor, Wesker managed to bite out, “When is the soonest I'll be back on my feet?”

“It’s hard to say. It could be weeks or months.”

Sighing, and giving up attempting to move as the ache resonated, Wesker nonchalantly uttered despondently, “I heal fast.”

“Everyone says that and everyone’s timeline is different. They were all clean breaks, so I imagine you’ll be more on the weeks than months side of things.”

Closing his eyes and attempting to breathe past the tightness of his ribs, which he could tell were wrapped expertly to the point of constricting, “That is… slightly reassuring.”

“Yes, well. You have a great team, especially that young man who came in with you. Wouldn’t leave your side that one. We had to give him a security escort and that barely kept him out of your room.”

Intrigued despite his exhaustion, Wesker’s brows crinkled, “You don’t say.”

“Give the man a raise if anything.”

“I plan on it. I’ll be sure to put the paperwork in.”

“Right. Well, not anytime soon you won’t. If there is nothing else, I’ll be on my way, Dr. Wesker. If you need anything, just hit the call button.”

Left alone Wesker’s mind raced, and suddenly, the man of the hour popped his head in to gaze around for bodies and finding none, shuffled in to jet back to Wesker’s bedside to surround the older man in tightened arms, which prompted an undignified yelp of surprise.

“Asshole. You have no idea how scared I was.” Leaning back, Chris had grasped the sides of Wesker’s face to hold him still and inspect every inch, especially now that his eyes were open, “I should’ve never let you walk away.”

Wesker only managed to return the hug weakly before Chris pulled away and he gaped back silently. This a side of Chris he’d never seen before.

There was only one thing Wesker could finally manage to say, “Thank you.”

Snuffling and finally sitting back to reclaim his chair, Chris grinned in absolute joy, “I couldn’t let my favorite boss kick the bucket that easily.”

Chuckling weakly which turned into a groan as his pale eyes wrenched shut, Wesker bit out, “Not that.”

Confusion now apparent, and leaning forward more, Chris gawked back, “Then what for.”

Taking a deep breath and regretting it as his ribs screamed at him, he pulled his lips inward, clenching his eyes tightly.

After the abrupt pain finally settled back down to a slightly more manageable level, Wesker looked Chris dead in the eyes, whispering with as straight a face as possible, “Thank you for saving my balls.”

It took Chris a moment before processing what Wesker just said and upon the strained face cracking into a grin before groaning as Wesker tried to stop chuckling, which failed miserably and left him huffing in tears.

But Chris was laughing at the absurdity, slapping his thigh as he gazed back upon his captain, and not able to keep on with the joke, Chris bobbed his eyebrows, shrugging his shoulders, and opened and clasped his hands exuberantly, “Well, I’m a firm believer in taking care of the entire package, not just the shaft. I’m really good with my hands, you know.”

This was spoken with the enactment of an imaginary hand job.

This, of course, had Wesker sucking in wheezing breaths, only to cringe, though not in response to the hilarity of Chris’s retort, “Could have fooled me with how long it takes to get your damn reports done.”

Sitting back, with a playful grin and cheeks slightly flushed, Chris chuckled warmly, “Hey now. Any task you drop on my desk is delicate work.”

“Delicate work, huh?”

Silence settled heavily between them, and Chris could only gaze upon Wesker who returned the scrutinizing inspection. A hand suddenly reached out, brushing a lock of blond from Wesker’s vision and behind his ear, but instead of withdrawing it lingered to smooth more loose strands back. Unconsciously Wesker leaned into the gestures.

Absently, Chris muttered as he soaked in the rawness so rarely seen in the unshielded pale irises. Trying to keep fear from his tone, Chris failed miserably as he whispered, “I’m pretty sure you lost at least one, maybe two, of your nine lives since I’ve known you. But…” Hazel eyes rolled to the side avoiding Wesker’s curious gaze as he realized he’d been running fingers over and over through the blond strands.

Waiting for Chris to continue and pouting as the fingers stopped, Wesker angled his eyes to the younger man in trepidation, waiting for whatever it was Chris had to say until he couldn’t stand it any longer, “But… what?”

Refocusing on Wesker’s questioning gaze, and shuffling forward in his chair, Chris turned to gleam at the bed’s occupant, grasping a pale hand loosely, and whispering, “I don’t remember being so fucking scared in so long when I saw how bad you were… when I found you on the floor in your office. Please promise me that you’ll be more careful. I…”

Eyebrows pinched and his clasped hand squeezed the grip in return, “You what, Christopher?”

Trying to keep quiet, Chris gently pulled Wesker forward so their foreheads pressed lightly against one another, “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. If something happened…”

Wesker’s breaths increased at such proximity, but he stayed silent and waiting. Sure, they had jokingly flirted in the past, had playfully called each other their ‘work wife,’ and there were a few saucy ass grabs but this was new, though certainly not unwanted.

“Promise me you’ll be more careful?”

Frowning slightly, Wesker responded as honestly as he possibly could, “Chris, I can’t make such a promise.”

Chris pulled back slightly and Wesker reluctantly let him go, not having the strength to do otherwise. But the response he received was not what he expected at all.

“Well, then I guess I will just have to babysit you for the rest of my life.” Chris was blushing profusely, but grinning toothily, despite hesitation as he intertwined his fingers with the clammy loosened grip, and he observed Wesker go from apprehension to confusion, to jovial as he grasped what Chris just said.

Swallowing heavily, his body refused his want to roll onto his side to face Chris more directly but the cuffs around his ankles tightened causing his brows to pinch. Licking his dry lips several times, head dropping heavily back onto the pillows Wesker gazed up with hopeful anxiety, “Are you… propositioning me?”

Head flopping forward to be covered by a hand but not releasing his hold on Wesker’s weakened grip, Chris muttered, “Jeezus, Wesker!”

Chuckling turned into a quiet hiss as Wesker shivered and Chris jerked his head back up to bring the still enclosed hand to his mouth, hazel eyes shining brightly, “I’m serious, Wes—Albert.”

“Oh, first name usage. You are very, very serious.” It was spoken sarcastically but the facial expression was heartfelt as Chris hid behind their intertwined hands.

Letting up hiding behind humor, Wesker bit out, relenting, “Alright. I yield. Where do you want your greasy burger from?”

Eyes popping in surprise, Chris muttered, cheeks flushing, “You… remember that?!”

“Of course, I remember. Though after that is a bit… fuzzy.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be fair if I ate by myself.”

Pale eyes squinted and Wesker gaped down upon himself, trying to hide the sudden flush with a disappointed frown, “Oh, I don’t know if I am properly attired for a real outing. I’m certainly not going anywhere any time soon.”

“I can bring whatever you want here.”

“Am I interrupting something?” Chris pulled away from where he’d shifted closer to Wesker, dropping the pale hand and clamming up by crossing his arms and legs as he straightened his back in the chair.

“Nope.”

Wesker was unconcerned though slightly disappointed their conversation was cut short. But he really wanted more range to move his legs around. “Finally.”

Eyeballing Wesker at his comment, Tess, dropped the softer padded cuffs onto the mattress and shifted the bedding up to expose Wesker's cuffed ankles.

“Oh, kinky!” Chris couldn’t help himself, eyebrows wagging, as Wesker glared over at him with a snort.

“You know, almost everyone says that.” Tess went about removing the current restraints, gently massaging the redness of the pale skin, and replaced them with softer cuffs loosely to allow some movement.

Both men silently watched Tess work, intrigued.

Finishing, Tess glanced between them, muttering, “Ok, you can go back to your proposal now.”

Chris flushed, hairs raising on the back of his neck as his back stiffened, “I wasn’t proposing!”

With a deadpan expression, Tess swung the old cuffs around teasingly, “Yeah, you were. No funny business in here, 'cause we’ll know.”

Silence settled between the two occupants, exchanging looks as Tess departed with an annoyed huff.

“Didn’t even cover you back up.” Chris stood to toss the blankets down over Wesker’s newly cuffed ankles, who was more than thankful, as the room was quite chilly. He was not going to do it himself with how much his ribs ached from the small amount of shifting he’d done since waking.

Sitting back down to capture Wesker’s full attention once more, Chris settled his cheek upon his palm, wagging eyebrows back at the sudden curling smirk, “So… where were we—”

A surprisingly strong hand wrenched out to grasp his shirt and Chris was suddenly yanked forward, a hot mouth enclosing over his own before being released as Wesker shifted away with a trembling grunt. Chris was reluctant to stop but knew Wesker was in extreme pain and so it wasn’t going to push for anything more.

‘You only live once.’

Shifting his newly and slightly freed legs, Wesker bit down on another groan before sighing heavily, “Since I’m buying, I get to pick where we eat.”

Hazel eyes widened in surprise, “Oh ho, none of that crazy fancy shit you like.”

“I’m not eating greasy burgers and fried hot dogs. Unless you plan on wiping my ass for me.”

Rolling his eyes playfully, but grumbling in slight disgust, Chris huffed, “Ok. Gross, man. Just gross. But… fair point.”

“Like you haven’t heard me take a shit before. Or I you. Everyone goes to Irons’ side of the building to air their grievances.”

“Touché.”

“Alright then, go grab a phone book.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Chapter Text

Chris knew one of the few ways to get Wesker to emerge from his hole of an office when he was in a bitter mood was to play the older man’s most despised bands and he knew just the right song to irk the man enough to get him to at least talk. He’d been practicing this one in particular just to see what kind of rise he could get.

Serenade.

They had been flirting on and off for several weeks after they had realized they had a lot more in common then they had originally thought. But due to their work situation, neither had dared to act on any such notional fleeting emotions. Or so Chris had thought they were notional fleeting emotions.

But they just so happened to run into each other at a bar a few towns over a day prior, Chris chatting up a lively conversation with another bar patron who was far closer than any two strangers would normally be if not for looking for a quick hookup.

He’d caught the blond out of the corner of his eye, shades unmistakable even in the darkened crowded setting. His conversation partner happened to swoop in while Chris was distracted staring like a deer caught in headlights, nuzzling up to his ear to whisper depraved desires to which the brunet only partially heard.

Turning back to the other patron to put a bit of space between them, he lost sight of the tall man in the mass of bodies. Chris excused himself before making off in the direction of his superior only to rush outside to see the man’s distinct vehicle skidding away.

Sighing in defeat, Chris didn’t return to the bar and left in hopes to at least catch up to the older man but he had stalled too long and Wesker was long gone, taking another route back to the City.

Now here they were, Chris staying late after intentionally bungling an easy task just to get a chance alone with Wesker. And his plan worked as he strummed through the song for the third time.

There was a slam, heavy boot steps, and Captain Wesker’s office door swung open hard enough to bounce back before the blond pointed an accusing finger, “YOU! STOP! Just stop! You bastard!”

Smirking at the flushed features, Chris trilled along the strings, feet up on his desk lazily, “But I thought you would enjoy me playing this song.”

Chris gazed in amusement as the frazzled STARS captain’s hand balled into fists at his sides, “You damn well know I—You know what?! Get out! Go home!”

Jolting to his feet and setting his guitar on his desk, hand against his heart in fake hurt, Chris glanced at his watch as he slowly closed the gap between them, “Whhaattttt? But I have… another 32 minutes as you so blatantly put it when I mucked up your neat stack of files.”

About to retort, but all fury deflated like a balloon as Wesker sighed heavily before pinching the bridge of his nose, mumbling out, “Are you ever going to stop being so annoying?”

Chuckling heartily, Chris murmured quietly, “Go out with me. Please?”

He expected the older man to prickle up, but the rigidness of the other’s posture and the deep downturn of lips were disappointing. He hoped to see maybe a small smile or the retort of some witty banter as they had exchanged before, but nothing like that.

“I have to go.” It was stated flatly.

Wesker turned to head back into his office but Chris pounced, gripping a wrist to halt the blond from turning away from such an important conversation, “Stop running from me.”

“I’m not run—”

“You are, Wesker—Albert.” Chris could feel the sinew under his hand, but Wesker did not pull away nor did he leave the unwavering gaze of his pointman.

“This is dangerous.” A quiet whisper retorted.

Stepping closer into Wesker’s personal bubble, Chris tested running his thumb along the other’s bare skin, surprised at the smoothness, “And when have we stopped doing what we do because it was dangerous?”

Turning more to face Chris, and closing the gap even further, Wesker kept the same low tone, “What are you proposing?”

Never losing eye contact with those hidden behind darkened lenses, Chris leaned in and almost against Wesker’s ear, whispered, “I propose a greasy burger and a cheap beer.”

Lips suddenly flitted back into a frown.

Leaning back in slight panic, Chris tried to joke, “What? What’s wrong? You expected something else? I’m not going to kiss you. Now that would be dangerous.”

There was a puff that could have been considered a laugh, and shaded eyes rolling toward the ceiling, “Disappointing. Make it a cheap scotch and I might reconsider.”

Jerking back and stumbling over his own feet toward his desk, Chris grabbed his keys and jacket before turning back towards the blond, yelling, “Yessss!”

A slight upturn lips, Wesker dropped his arms before retreating ito his office to grab his keys and coat.

Turning to make a suggestion for a location, Wesker had his breath taken away as warm lips pressed against his own.

The kiss ended far too quickly for Wesker’s liking, but it was certainly not an unwelcome gesture, “I thought you said this was dangerous?”

Stepping away with a goofy grin, Chris made for the outer STARS door, “So worth it.”

Smirking and shaking his head, Wesker locked his office door.

“So where to?”

“Oh, just that little bar down on Main. Their food is decent and cheap enough.”

As they strolled out of the precinct, Wesker snapped his fingers, requesting, “Don’t ever play that song again.”

“Oh, come on, it got you out of your cave!”

Smilingly overly sweetly, teeth glaring, Wesker spoke matter-of-factually, “You do and I will smash your guitar.”

Face turning ashen, Chris stalled even as Wesker kept the same pace, “You wouldn’t! Not my baby!”

Turning slightly, Wesker smirked, “I would. Now get your ass moving, I’m starving.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Chapter Text

There was no time.

It had to be done. Here. Now.

There was no time to be modest.

Without knowing what exactly was in the container all members of STARS who inadvertently were splashed with the unknown substance dropped trousers and ran for the closest body of water.

Which was a spigot for an impromptu bath.

Joseph, Chris, Dewey, Jill, and Wesker were dropping parcels of clothing left and right.

With Brad, Kenneth, and a very reluctant Rebecca on their heels.

“Wait! St-stop!” Rebecca’s shouts were drowned out by her male counterparts.

Jill turned her head just as she pulled her sports bra over her head as it too had some of the liquid that had soaked all the way through her tactical shirt, breasts bouncing as she ran full force with her teammates.

There was so much commotion that Rebecca stood back out of the way, observing half naked and some fully naked bodies spraying down all areas of affected skin.

She felt like an outsider. A wallflower.

‘Am I really cut out for this?’

That is until Captain Albert Wesker caught her attention motioning her to join him.

With a slight blush she bounded over to him who was down to his wet briefs–leaving very little to the imagination. She tried to keep her gaze on his stoic face and ignore the well endow genitalia of the Alpha captain practically visible through the white material, not to mention the mess of dislodged normally slicked back blond locks.

He was gorgeous.

Rebecca’s cheeks flushed darker.

“Here, could you assist, Ms. Chambers? I cannot reach my shoulders.” This was a lie, and they both knew Wesker could very well reach. Yet, she was thankful for something to do.

“Y-yes, Sir. And please, Rebecca is fine.”

His expression didn’t change but he gave a slight nod as he turned after handing her the triple herb concoction.

The group had sprayed down each other down to remove the substance and were now being checked for severity of burns. The worst being treated with the specialty three-herb medicinal.

“C-could you crouch Sir. There is a mark I can’t reach.”

He hummed slightly and lowered down to take a knee so she could slather the medicinal across a reddened mark at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. It took her a second to realize it was a bruise and not a burn but did not stop making sure it along with any other reddened skin was attended to.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Standing, he raised an eyebrow, “No, thank you.”

Then a tiny smirk formed at the corner of his mouth as he watched the youngest STARS members absently, or perhaps knowingly, jolting her eyes minutely downward to absorb a quick gaze at the older man’s nether region who was still on a single knee.

“You’ll get over it.”

Standing rigid, Rebecca peeped in confusion at his statement.

Gazing past her, he drawled on though he kept his sunglasses-hidden gaze on her, and she kept stealing looks at him as well as other who were wearing even less clothing, “Your curiosity is natural. Most of your comrades have had many years in the military and care little for... decency. The bashfulness will dull over time. Especially if it means life or death.”

She cringed but did not refute nor retort his vocalization. ‘UGH! Am I that obvious?!’ She had seen her fair share of naked bodies during her studies, but these were living breathing people not cadavers. The pumping of blood through flesh and musculature were nowhere near that of a stiff.

Standing back to his full height, Wesker asked quietly, “If I remember correctly, you played basketball at university?”

Perking up, she nodded, “Yes! Varsity!”

Folding muscled arms over his chest, Wesker smiled, “How about we play a little one of one.”

Her cheeks blushed slightly, but the lucrative offer to play basketball well out won her concern that she would be playing against the Alpha captain.

“You’re on, Captain!”

Clapping an arm around her shoulders, he steered her towards the mass of half-clothed STARS members.

“Good. You’ll be shirts. I’ll be skins.”