Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He blinked. He blinked again. Chris frowned as the lines on the page came back into focus on his desktop. The bluelight from screen made him rub an eye irritably and Chris finally sat back in his chair with a creak. A crease marred his forehead as he sighed, eyes shut and head tilted back. He could hear the clock on the wall ticking away, another annoying reminder that it was half-past six and his shore leave had technically started three hours ago. Cracking an eye open, Chris looked at the half-finished report on his computer. The sheer number of them waiting to be turned in made him groan and he went back to just sitting with his eyes shut.

A knock at the door Chris jump, the chair rolling back slightly from his desk. The clock kept ticking and he realized with horror that it was now ten to seven. He raked a hand down his face, desperately trying to figure out how he’d lost twenty minutes when the knob to his office door rattled and turned. He straightened up; frown deepening that anyone would be looking for him after office hours. The face that came through the door made Chris suddenly feel silly for being suspicious. Of course it was Piers. Outside of Jill’s regular visits, his lieutenant was the only other person that even sought out Chris after hours.

“Oh? You’re still here.” Piers seemed surprised, having expected to find the office empty. He hesitated in the doorway, taking in Chris’ ragged expression and interrupted work.

“Unfortunately,” Chris griped, scooting back into his desk and letting his face rest on a bored hand. “I thought I’d be able to bang out these reports before leaving, but I guess that ship already sailed.”

Piers made a face and Chris realized his lieutenant was holding a manila folder that looked thick. The sight of it with the official BSAA seal stamped on the front made the man want to crawl under his desk. More field reports that obviously needed to be reviewed by the captain of Alpha squad. If Piers was here to drop them off, that meant that even his own lieutenant didn’t have the same issues Chris did in finding the motivation to finish his work. Chris wanted to find it insulting, but one look at Piers made him motion weakly to an empty spot on his desk for the papers. It made a soft thwack noise as Piers set the weight of it down. Chris eyed it and didn’t hide his grimace.

“They’re not going to bite you,” Piers said with a slight smirk, backing just far away enough when Chris’ gaze hardened. The captain didn’t move, but Piers still stayed well out of slapping range. “All you gotta do is glance over it and sign off on ‘em.”

“Surrreeee, Nivans. Leave me here to rot with your book of reports while you take off on vacation.” He didn’t mask the growl in his voice and reached for the folder, flipping it open and already reading the first page. He missed the way Piers’ expression soured for a moment before relaxing.

“Why don’t you just take the work with you, Captain? It’ll probably be nine o’clock before you actually get back to work.”

Chris’ face snapped towards his lieutenant’s and the younger man fought down a smile as he retreated back towards the exit. A beat passed between them before Piers ducked behind the door and the blinds rattled as he shut it quickly. Chris wasn’t actually going to throw anything. That’s what he told himself anyways as he set his empty coffee mug back down onto the desk. The folder was still open in his lap and Chris just sighed, flipping through a few of the documents before closing the file. As much as Piers was being a smartass, he had a point. The ticking of the clock was beginning to get under his skin as Chris moved his reports from the desktop to a flashdrive so he could finally leave. While the files transferred, Chris pulled his coat on haphazardly and shoved Piers’ reports under his arm.

It was about a quarter past seven when he finally locked his office up for good. Chris almost felt like whistling, his voice echoing quietly off the walls as the broken tune stayed under his tongue. He hesitated at the elevator, wondering if there was anything else he needed to bring. Alpha Team’s furlough was a promised three weeks and nearly a month overdue after spending double that amount in the bleak mountainsides of Eastern Europe. The team had finally been brought back stateside when they weren’t able to confirm a BOW presence as more than hearsay and vague reports.

The violent civil war overseas still sat in the back of Chris’ mind, an off feeing settling in his gut. It didn’t feel like the BSAA’s work was done yet over there, but that call was up to their European branch if they discovered more concrete evidence of BOW activity. He shrugged it off, forcing his mind back to the task at hand. He still had a two hour drive back home. That small reminder made Chris thunk his head against the door of the elevator. Leave it to Piers to be right about his nine o’clock prediction. As he rode the elevator down to the barracks level of the military base, Chris felt a twitch in his eyelid.

He groaned about the sheer inconvenience of the BSAA having its base two hours away from the nearest city, but the argument for its distance made up for that. Being on the East coast made this military base an international hub of communications with the other branches. It had its science facilities and training grounds coupled with the barracks and private airfield. The remoteness let it function cohesively, but Chris still complained. He kept an apartment in the city which was a small respite from constantly being in the field at least.

Chris swallowed a yawn, feeling the tension in his shoulders tenfold from hunching over at his desk. All he had to do was grab his duffel and head out, the call of a soft bed at home making his eyes droop. The elevator dinged softly at the barracks floor, opening up to a wide pantheon of hallways that housed the constantly changing teams of the BSAA. A few passing soldiers waved at the captain. He nodded their way, making a beeline for Alpha’s section of bunks and footlockers. Many of the beds were made up and empty, the majority of his team already off base. Chris faltered where he walked, slowing when he realized he wasn’t totally alone in the bunks.

“Nivans.” Chris’ tone was blunt confusion as he stared at his lieutenant’s back. The younger man jumped slightly, turning round on his bed where he’d been sitting.

“Captain,” he dipped his head, looking Chris up and down for a second. “Heading out finally?”

“Yeah…thought I’d take your advice.”

“Well, I’d say that’s a first.” There was that sass again that only Piers seemed to get away with around the captain.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh nothing.”

Chris felt his eye twitch again and he roughly pulled his duffel from the footlocker beneath his bunk beside Piers’. He unzipped it, checking over its gear before shoving the folders he’d brought with him into it. He pushed them down into the loosely folded clothes at the bottom of the bag before getting it shut. Chris felt eyes on him still and he glanced upwards, finding Piers watching him. He raised an eyebrow and Piers shrugged, looking back down to the phone in his lap. He’d been fiddling with it for a few minutes before Chris had made it down to Alpha’s bunks.

“I’m surprised you’re not gone yet, Piers,” Chris blurted, suddenly feeling the need to make conversation. Something about his lieutenant’s body language had him lingering, duffel still sitting on his bed. Piers didn’t answer at first, instead releasing an irritated sigh. He crossed one leg over the other lazily and looked up at Chris.

“I hadn’t planned on it,” he said eventually, looking resigned.

“Really?” Chris almost thought Piers was joking, but his lieutenant just looked annoyed. “What about your folks?”

“On a cruise as of last week, I think. Mom finally convinced Dad to take her. Being deployed for as long as we were means I only just found out when we got back a few days ago.”

“So, what, you’re just gonna spend your leave here on base?”

“I don’t see much point in flying ten hours home just to sit in an empty house for three weeks, Chris.” Piers’ tone was clipped towards the other man and Chris drew back at the surly look on Piers’ face.

Piers was silent for a few more beats before he rolled his eyes, rising up from his bunk awkwardly. A telltale clang sounded between them and Chris bit his lip to not laugh. For being the best sharpshooter Alpha had, Piers always had a nasty habit of forgetting to duck his head when he got up from the lower bunk he slept on. Piers swore loudly, smacking his fist against the bed frame as Chris just stared. A rosy hue colored Piers’ face when he saw Chris’ barely hidden smile and the younger man waved his captain off with a huff.

“I’m going to the range,” he groused, embarrassment plain on his face for a moment before he picked up his phone. He stopped and looked back at Chris. “Just so you know, the longer you’re here, the worse your drive home is gonna be.”

Chris’ face fell and he narrowed his eyes. “And why is that?”

“Because of the snowstorm, Captain.”

Chris could have sworn he saw a hint of a grin on Piers’ face and he felt the eye twitch return with a vengeance. He gathered up his duffel, willing the forecast to not be true despite what his own phone said on the way out from the building. He came to a standstill outside the entrance, double doors sliding shut with a hiss as the full force of the mid-November air hit him. Winter was early this year and so was the already two fallen inches of snow that Piers just had to be right about. So far his lieutenant was two for none tonight and Chris audibly sighed.

Chapter Text

The drive home was a nightmare to say the least. By the time he’d made it to the city outskirts, the two inches of powder had doubled. The boots he always wore were a blessing right then as he trudged up to his apartment building. His burly mass was covered in fat flakes of snow, a trail of them left behind in the lobby as Christ stopped for his mail. Nothing, but bills and junk. He tsked in annoyance at the pile, throwing it into his duffel. He wasn’t sure what he wanted more: a hot shower and bed or a hot meal and a beer. The latter was tempting as he shook off the last of winter on his coat. Relief settled nicely across his shoulders instead as he finally made it into his apartment on the seventh floor.

It wasn’t impressive by any means, but home was still home to Chris. Leaving the duffel by the door, he toed off his boots and left his coat across the back of the couch. The kitchen light hummed to life quietly as he dropped his keys and cell phone amongst the spare change into a small wooden bowl on the counter. His drive for a hot meal won out and the man planted himself in the middle of his couch, flicking the evening news as on his microwave spun a ready-made alfredo around for ten minutes. Chris sighed, sinking down into the cushions as the length of the day caught up with him.

With his head reclined backwards, Chris suddenly found himself thinking about his lieutenant left behind on base. He didn’t understand exactly why, but a small part of him felt bad that Piers couldn’t fly home to be with his parents. Piers always made time for his folks. A very small spark of jealously made Chris open his eyes, which turned to grief he didn’t often acknowledge. He was happy Piers even had the option at all to call his parents when he wanted to, but it also just reminded the man of how much he’d missed out on at Piers’ tender age of 25. Having basically raised Claire himself after losing their parents and then entering the Air Force almost straight out of high school had left Chris very little time to figure out what he wanted in life.

Chris made a scoffing noise in the back of his throat as he realized that he was exactly Piers’ age when everything in his life seemed to go to shit all at once with Wesker and Raccoon City. The irony of it tasted bitter and here Piers was, willingly walking into a life of it. No one had ever really seen what Chris had seen unless you were a direct survivor from the Raccoon days. He let out a rough laugh, feeling very old despite his 39^th birthday on the horizon come the New Year. A soft ding from the kitchen finally snapped him out of his reverie. Said hot meal was enough of a distraction at ten p.m. and he welcomed it.

He didn’t bother with a plate, staying at the counter with fork in hand and the delicious steam of alfredo sauce wafting up. A shadow of a smile finally crept across Chris’ face while he ate. It reminded him of the types of meals Claire would make for them when he would come home from basic training. Pasta became their refuge in a lonely home where Claire was still being a kid and Chris barely passed as an adult. The urge to call her bubbled up suddenly and he set the fork aside, padding across the kitchen for his phone. He cringed at the time, wondering if she was going to be up. Despite him starting vacation, it was still the middle of the week and her work with TerraSave always had her working the weirdest hours.

Unlocking his phone made him stall when he realized he had a new text.

::It’s too fucking quiet here.::

Chris looked at the name and realized the message was from Piers. He’d sent it only a few minutes ago and Chris vaguely realized this was about the time most of Alpha would be bunking down before morning training. An odd little feeling settled in Chris’ gut and he didn’t understand why a single text from Piers before bed made him feel warm inside. He forced himself not to dwell on that, going back to his dinner with phone in hand. He tried to think of how to reply, but he wasn’t entirely sure what compelled him to type what he did.

::Miss me already, Nivans?::

He’d barely hit send on his phone when his brain caught up with his finger. That didn’t stop the text from reaching Piers as it flashed on screen within their chat. It hung there for an agonizing minute before a tiny bubble popped up that Piers was typing. Still reeling from what he’d sent, Chris wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what his lieutenant was about to say. He put the phone face down on the counter, ignoring the pull of a still hot meal in favor of staring at his phone when it buzzed against the laminate surface. This was stupid. Chris felt stupid. He couldn’t fathom why one text was making him nervous when it wasn’t uncommon for captain and lieutenant to sass each other in the field. It had become the norm with Piers’ odd, but fond friendship between the two of them. That same warm feeling in his gut came back when Chris knew that he was the only one Piers treated this way.

He flipped the phone over.

::Am I supposed to miss your chainsaw snoring, Captain?::

Chris stared at the phone for a second too long, feeling a telltale twitch in his eyelid before he grabbed the phone.

::Chainsaw, huh? Is that better or worse than Alfonso saying I sounded like a jackhammer?::

::Better, I guess. At least a chainsaw is consistent.::

::Ass.::

The thread of messages made Chris smile again and he kept the phone loose in his grip as he went back to eating, the nerves from before settling down. He had no idea where they’d come from and Chris didn’t let himself linger on that for too long. He found himself waiting for another smarmy reply from his lieutenant, but time stretched on as Chris wrapped up the remains of the alfredo for leftovers in the fridge. His phone stayed quiet and the man admitted to himself that he felt disappointed. He let himself sink back down onto the couch, his phone tossed onto a cushion beside his thigh and the TV droned on like it had before. The news turned to a flicker of channels as Chris tried to find something to occupy himself with. A cheap Western flick came up that he finally settled on and Chris stayed awake for about a third of it before he shut his eyes.

One a.m. came with the tick of the clock on the wall and a soft buzz against his leg woke Chris.

::I don’t like it.::

The single text lit up the screen and Chris groggily rubbed his face, eyes stinging at the brightness of both the TV and his phone. He brought it closer to read, squinting and trying to focus.

::Don’t like what?::

Chris grumbled to himself, annoyed and concerned at how vague Piers was just then.

::Like I said. Too fucking quiet.::

::Piers, you do realize it’s one in the morning, right?::

The typing bubble on his screen seemed to freeze before it disappeared entirely and Chris sat up more feeling like an ass if something really was bothering his lieutenant. The bubble thankfully came back and Chris let out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he’d been holding in.

::It’s just not the same. I don’t know how else to explain it.::

::Help me understand. You’re upset because you finally have R&R?::

::Well, it just feels incredibly stupid that I can’t seem to sleep without the god-awful racket all of you make at night.::

Chris lowered the phone slightly as he read Piers’ text. His lieutenant was blunt as ever and Chris could imagine the rather frustrated expression on the younger man’s face. It was the same face he always made when Piers felt compelled to say something, even when it seemed forced or reluctant. Piers was not an easy person to fluster, but he had his moments and Chris could tell that Piers seemed to be struggling with this. He teetered on his reply, sitting up with a tired groan. The muscles in his shoulders spasmed in protest from his impromptu nap. He turned the TV off, focusing solely on the phone in hand as he headed towards his bedroom.

::I’m not sure how I can help, Piers.::

He thought honesty might be the best approach.

::It’s not like there’s much that you can do. I don’t even know why I brought it up.::

::Because it’s one a.m. and you clearly can’t sleep?::

::Thank you, Captain Obvious.::

::That is my rank.:: Chris paused as he sat on the edge of his bed, fingers hovering over the screen. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to ask, but curiosity won as he kept typing. ::How’d you even know I’d be awake?::

He saw the text bubble appear no less than three times as the silence stretched on while Piers typed. The reply that Chris fully expected to get never came as the bubble disappeared again. Chris ran fingers through his hair roughly, eying the phone with a wariness he only experienced in the field when Alpha was scouting an unknown region. It was easier to navigate a battlefield than personal relationships in Chris’ life and this seemed to be no exception. The bubble finally reappeared.

::I didn’t.::

::Did none of the others reply? I know our leave just started, but still.::

::You’re the only person I texted, Chris.::

Chris felt his mouth go dry for a moment and he licked his lips subconsciously. The wariness grew in his gut as he processed what Piers wrote. He leaned forward on his knees, looking for the entire world, very lost. The seconds ticked by and Piers typed nothing else, leaving his captain far too alone with his thoughts as he forced himself to think of an answer.

::Lucky you that I keep such shitty hours then.::

::Yeah. Maybe.::

::Still. I guess if you keep shitty hours too, shoot me a text if you really want to.::

Chris bit his lip for a moment before setting the phone down, plugging the charger in and finally getting ready for bed. He yanked his shirt and pants off, tossing them into the hamper in the bedroom corner before pulling on a clean pair of sweats. The dog tags he always wore jingled quietly as he set them down on the nightstand, the chain just barely brushing the phone. Climbing into bed became a beckoning hand to his drooping eyes and Chris barely registered his head hitting the pillow when he finally shut them. At almost a quarter to two, Chris was deep asleep as he missed his phone lighting up for one last message.

::Thanks, Chris.::

Chapter Text

The morning came quickly and despite Chris being an early riser, his snores continued to permeate throughout the room. The shape he made in the sheets did not move until the sunlight stretched in across the floor. The carpet warmed with small wisps of dust particles reflected in the light. A soft groan came from under the pillows and Chris’ tousled hair finally came up for air. He squinted in disgust as the edge of the flat sheet stuck to his chin. He wiped it away, haphazardly trying to get rid of the drool. His nose wrinkled when he realized the size of the damp spot he’d left behind. Rubbing the heel of his hand against an eye, his brain struggled to catch up as he rolled over. He heard an audible thump upon the floor and he blearily looked downwards over the edge of the bed.

It was his phone of all things and Chris stared until the little pieces of last night fell together. He scooped it up, frowning as he realized it had died overnight. He fumbled with the charger, an unexplainable eagerness waking him up slowly. He hated the idea that he might have missed more messages from his lieutenant and the longer the phone took to come alive, the more impatient he got. The need to know got him up and moving, sitting up with one leg hanging off the side as Chris processed the sudden giddiness he felt. It shouldn’t be this odd to have someone texting him. Should it? This was Piers. If anything, Chris should have expected it. They weren’t strangers. He trusted Piers with his life in the field, so there shouldn’t have been anything remotely odd about a text in the night.

Chris rubbed both hands over his face, feeling the day old stubble already setting in. He humored the idea of shaving, but shrugged it off with a yawn. He was on vacation. He could afford being a little scruffy. He did a long stretch into the air, sighing as his back popped a sweet spot. A small chime echoed from his lap as his phone finally powered back on followed by a chorus of chimes as the missed messages registered. Looking at the time made Chris’ eyebrows pop up.

“Shit, did I really sleep in that late?” He murmured, seeing it was half-past eleven.

There were five text messages from Piers as well as a missed call and voicemail from Jill Valentine. That caught his attention. It was a rare occurrence to hear anything from his old partner; at work or outside of it. Since Africa, the BSAA had held a tight watch over her recovery at the stateside headquarters. She had been sidelined and forced out of her role as a field agent. That hadn’t stopped her from staying active in BSAA affairs, which Chris was always grateful for. He wasn’t sure if Alpha would have gotten their leave request even honored if Jill didn’t have a seat on the board of directors for field operations.

Setting the phone down for a moment, Chris got up to get dressed. Making a late start to his day was still an attempt at salvaging it and he rummaged through his upper drawers. The decision on what to do with said day still hung in the air and he tried not to think about the stack of reports that he’d conveniently left in his duffel. Out of sight, out of mind never really worked with Chris Redfield and the way it still nagged at him meant trying to relax was going to take effort. Curiosity had him procrastinating as he walked back over to his nightstand, putting his phone on speaker as he checked his voicemail.

“Hey, Chris. Bet you weren’t expecting a call, huh?” Jill’s soft laugh over the phone made Chris ache quietly as he listened. He missed her. “I got word that Alpha finally got their leave approved. I’m sorry I couldn’t get you more than Thanksgiving off. The upper brass really weren’t having it. Not will all the constant reports coming in from East Europe. Still, I’ve got at least some pull up here, so you better appreciate it, Redfield. Call me back. We need to discuss reunion plans.”

The voicemail finished with a faint click and Chris stumbled, caught in his t-shirt as Jill’s words slammed into him. He’d forgotten all about the reunion. He thought it was all just talk because none of their schedules ever lined up to meet. He leaned up against his dresser, finally getting his head unstuck with a grunt. Staying in his sweatpants, Chris moved his phone and charger to the kitchen. He didn’t spare the time to make a proper lunch as he reheated a plate of alfredo from the fridge. He was still too preoccupied with Jill’s voicemail as he leveled a hard stare with his calendar on the wall.

The last few weeks of November were all blocked out for shore leave he’d been expecting since Jill had hinted she was pulling a few strings to get them home. He wondered if the reunion had been on her mind when she’d done it. He chewed on his lip in thought, knowing he’d have to call Claire and ask her. Reaching out to his baby sister would more than likely get Leon in on the loop and Jill probably had Barry and Rebecca covered if they were serious about this. All of them were survivors from Raccoon and Jill had been talking about this little reunion for more than a year now.

It meant more to her than she ever let on and Chris could tell she was restless from the little interactions they had on base when he was back between deployments. He let out a slow breath, fishing his lunch from the microwave when it dinged. Tethered to his phone charger, Chris stayed at the counter as he finally checked the other messages. Given that it was about midday, Piers would have taken advantage of being out on the range. The younger man was practically religious about keeping his eyes sharp on and off the field. Chris snorted when he read a particularly angry text with a photo attached.

::Freezing my ass off right now. Have you been outside yet?!::

Said picture attached only showed the distinctive polished barrel of Piers’ anti-material rifle almost swallowed by the snow with blurry targets in the background.

Chris rolled his eyes and quickly sent off a reply that no one was making Piers play in the snow today except himself. The fact that he was at the outdoor range did not surprise Chris in the least. The younger man had never fully cared for close-quarters practice, despite being almost as precise with a pistol as he was with a high-powered rifle. These were the little things that Chris had learned to appreciate in his partner. They were also the reasons that Chris had even scouted Piers as a potential for Alpha Squad. He was bright and intelligent and Chris felt a soft pride bubbling to the surface as he dwelled on the younger man.

He didn’t even realize he’d been staring off into space until the small bundle of noodles around his fork fell off it with a splat onto the plate. He felt a flush spread across his face suddenly and the unspoken giddiness returned tenfold in his stomach. Confused wasn’t the right explanation for these feelings just then, but they happened regardless. In fact, they still kept happening. He tried not to dwell on it as he reoriented himself, putting his fork down and forcing himself to try and call Jill. He dialed her personal cell instead of the office number, hoping she would pick up to distract him. After the third ring, she finally did.

“Hey,” he croaked, clearing his throat when his voice came out a little too rough. “You called?”

“About time, Redfield. You’re lucky I’m just now leaving the office.” Chris could hear keys jingling and he assumed it was her locking up.

“Yeah, my phone died on me. Forgot to charge it last night.”

“That’s fine. I assumed you were finally catching up on some sleep, right?”

“Something like that. So, this reunion, how many of the others have you actually talked to?”

“Well, Barry said he might be able to make it if we do it before Thanksgiving. He wants to be home with Kathy and the kids. Rebecca is a go. We just need a date so she can catch the train out from Chicago.”

“And I’m assuming Leon and Claire are up to me?” Chris looked back at the calendar, trying to decide what might be a feasible day to plan this.

“I’d appreciate it. I know Claire would love it if her brother finally gave her a call,” Jill teased and Chris made a face with an exaggerated noise of complaint.

“Has she said something to you too? I swear it’s like she’s a sixth sense for this sort of thing. Even Piers scolded me for not calling her the last time we had a break in Europe.”

“Oh did he now?” There was a tone in Jill’s words that he wasn’t expecting and he sat up straighter.

“Am I missing something here?”

“Not as far as I’m aware,” Jill replied back, staying vague despite the fact Chris could just hear the smile in her voice.

“God, all three of you are going to be why I retire early.”

“That’s about as likely as me ever making it back into the field.”

There was a pregnant pause after she spoke and Chris sighed softly into his hand. This had become a tender topic between the former partners and he wasn’t sure what he could say that would make her feel better. He knew how much she hated being reduced to admin for the BSAA. It always felt like true change for the world came from being out in the field and not from behind a desk. Muffled noises came from over the phone and he heard a car door slam shut. He floundered for a moment, trying to think of a way to break the tension when she said she was moving the call to her car’s Bluetooth set up.

“Well, still speaking of Piers, he’s not exactly thrilled about our leave right now,” Chris blurted, rubbing the back of his head.

“Say what? I worked my ass off getting you guys this vacation!”

“He’s just miffed because his folks are out of town and he’s stuck on base. He’s like the only one stuck on base.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“So why don’t you just invite him over then?”

A hard sound of coughing came from Chris’ end on the phone call as he choked on pasta.

“Are you dying?” She tried again. “What the heck are you doing?”

“Eating!” Chris managed to get out as he thumped his chest. “I’m eating lunch.”

“Well take smaller bites, geez.”

“I am a grown man, Jill. I know how to eat my food. That’s not…just forget it. What did you say before?”

“I said invite Piers over?”

“Why…why would I need to do that?” Chris cleared his throat again, glaring down at his plate while trying to ignore the heat across his face.

“Because he’s a friend? Sounds to me like he got shafted pretty hard getting left behind like this.”

The flush got worse and Chris swallowed down an audible noise. Why did she have to say it like that?

“We’ve been texting. He…complained about us being gone.”

“Sounds like reason enough to me,” Jill said softly and yet again Chris felt like he was missing something. She sounded so encouraging and he didn’t understand why. He found himself nodding along despite his suspicions.

“Maybe you’re right. I’ll think about it. I still need to call Claire first.”

“Please do that as soon as you can and call me back. I…I really would like to see you all again, Chris.”

“Same here, Jill.” Chris fought down his growing embarrassment. “Maybe things can be a little normal for a change.”

“Normal? I haven’t thought about that in probably a decade…”

“Well, whatever normal is, I’m sure we can manage it.”

They didn’t say goodbye as they fell into a comfortable silence. They never did. Chris stared down at his phone for another few seconds before hitting END and letting it charge. Saying goodbye was something they both learned they hated doing. Saying goodbye felt too final. It felt permanent. Chris wasn’t sure what to do with permanent as he pushed the plate of half-eaten pasta away from himself.

Chapter Text

Chris Redfield had a few options laid out for him now. Calling Claire was at the top of the list; that was non-negotiable. Another nagging thought sprang to mind and he glanced around the corner from his kitchen. The duffel still sat by the door, barely obscured by his overturned boots. He made a face and ducked away. He had responsibilities. He tried to be stern with himself, but it wasn’t the same. Maybe Jill was right. He should just invite Piers over, even if it meant his lieutenant would just sit there and yell at him to do the damn paperwork that Chris was avoiding. Chris felt slightly pathetic that he could stand up to BOWs four times his size, but field reports were death personified.

Letting out a low sound of defeat, Chris emerged from his hidey-hole by the fridge. At the very least he could conquer the stack of reports Piers had left for him. It was light reading at best, right? Exhaling softly, he unzipped the duffel and pulled out the crinkled papers. It was sizable, but Piers wasn’t one to mince words. He was always straight to the point and Chris was thankful as he sat down at the dining table to read. When he flipped the folder open, a brightly colored piece of paper fluttered away suddenly. It took Chris by surprise as he missed catching it and it fell between his feet. Bending down, he recognized the neat scrawl of handwriting immediately.

“To do…?” Chris murmured, plucking up the blue sticky note. He read it quietly until he got to the last bullet on Piers’ to do list. “Reminder: tell Chris to…go home?”

He sat back in his chair, holding the crumpled list in his palm. He rubbed a thumb over it as he tentatively checked the folder for more notes Piers might have forgotten to remove. It was just the one as far as he could see and Chris focused on the soft curl of Piers’ handwriting where his name was on the paper. The fact that Piers even wrote himself notes to lookout for his captain made Chris’ giddiness come back tenfold. Propping his chin up with a lazy elbow on the table, Chris went back to reading the reports. A fresh smile plastered itself to his face and Chris felt light. The sticky note stayed in his hand, fingers idly playing with it while he read. He didn’t even notice time going by as he got through the majority of what needed to be signed off on.

Stumbling upon the sticky note seemed to be the one thing he needed to finally focus. It was like a little part of Piers being there for him and Chris dwelled on that for a moment as he got to the last few pages. His thumb still rubbed over the handwriting in ink and he finally wondered if this was something he was even supposed to be seeing. Something about it felt oddly personal and Chris frowned, hoping he wasn’t crossing some line he didn’t even know if Piers had. Piers had probably forgotten to remove it when he’d given it to Chris. He found himself reluctant to put the sticky note down all of a sudden.

Chris chided himself, rubbing the side of his face with a sigh. It was just a note. Piers was just being thoughtful. Chris was over-thinking things. Not a single one of those facts made him feel any better and he crumpled up the paper in frustration. He dropped the little ball off to the side and forced himself to focus on the stack of reports. Only a few more signatures and he was finally done. A couple seconds ticked by before it really sunk in that he’d managed to get any work done. He was used to cramming it all into the last few days of his vacation. He eyed up the blue sticky note suspiciously like Piers leaving it behind was done on purpose. He huffed softly and let the stack of papers close. Now what?

Call Claire. Call Claire.

Chris’ brain didn’t hesitate to give him a convenient distraction and he rocked back in the dining chair to reach for his phone. He went back on two legs before he could finally reach it. It was charged just enough that he pulled its cord out as he attempted the first call for Claire. The line went straight to voicemail and did the same when he tried again half an hour later. Rubbing his chin, he tried her work phone, but got sent to voicemail after the fifth ring. He tried one last ditch effort and dialed her office. It rang for almost a minute before her automated answering machine kicked on. He tapped his foot impatiently against the leg of his chair. She had to be neck deep in meetings if he couldn’t even reach her office.

He tried her cell again, rolling his eyes when it triggered the voicemail: “Claire, it’s Chris. I’ve finally got some time and I’m in town until after Thanksgiving. If you get this message, Jill wants to plan that big get together while we can. If you and Leon could let me know, it would mean the world to her. Love you. I’ll see you soon.”

Chris slumped down in his chair, phone on the table, and he finally felt the weight of the morning coming down on him. Looking around his apartment for a moment, Chris wondered if this was how Piers felt being stuck on base by himself. He hated to admit how lonely this profession really was when he wasn’t neck-deep in zombies. He pushed away from the table, the legs of the chair catching on the carpet for a moment. He felt like he needed air suddenly; anything to get rid of this creeping antsy-ness. Part of him thought he should at least put jeans on, but he didn’t bother as he already yanked his coat and boots on. A quick walk wasn’t going to hurt, maybe just around the block. A little winter cold wasn’t going to kill him either. At least that’s what he thought until the elevator took him downstairs and from the lobby he could see a heavy flurry against the blinding backdrop of sun on snow in the street.

“Godammit,” he mumbled, standing with the glass door between him and the outside.

The snow had steadily gotten worse and Chris was pretty sure it was ankle deep, even with his boots on. His breath fogged the cold glass before he finally convinced himself this was still a good idea. The man looked back and forth with a grimace as he came out onto the sidewalk and pulled up the collar of his coat. A car drove by, kicking up gutters of slush that he stepped back from immediately. Only a few feet from his building and Chris was already convincing himself it was now a stupid idea to come out in just a coat and sweats. His bullheadedness won out as he forced himself to trudge down the road where he knew a mini mart would be open.

A hard shiver racked his tall frame as Chris got down the street and around the corner. The neon sign of the mini mart stood out against the stark white flurries in the air and he let that guide him inside finally. There was almost no one inside as the automatic bell chimed when the door opened. The clerk behind the counter gave him a lazy wave, not getting up from her chair as she watched the highlights of a hockey game on a tiny box TV. Chris was almost tempted to ask who was playing, but he headed straight for the Hot Foods counter. Coffee was calling his name and Chris couldn’t resist reaching for the tallest cup.

The scent of fresh brew managed to calm the antsy-ness clinging to his shoulders, but it didn’t quite get rid of it. It stayed as he lingered by the case of donuts and hot rollers. Going back out into the snow sounded awful, but being stuck in his apartment sounded worse. Chris scratched his chin and drummed his fingers over the laminate counter for a minute. Jill’s words came back to him and a fresh flush of heat climbed up his neck. Hesitantly, he reached for his phone and found the one name that he always seemed to come back to. Putting a lid on his coffee and one dial later, Chris neared the back of the store for some privacy.

“This is Piers,” the crystal clear voice answered and Chris blanched because he realized he wasn’t prepared with what to say.

“Uhhh…Nivans, it’s Chris?”

“Should I be concerned that you sound confused about your own name?” Piers snorted and the sounds of parts being moved around followed over the phone.

“Don’t be an ass, Piers. I might just forget why I called and hang up on you.”

“That’s if you can even figure out why you called in the first place.”

Chris set his coffee down on the edge of a shelf, pinching the bridge of his nose and counted back from three. Apparently this was the morning to push his buttons. Despite being annoyed, amusement continued to follow close behind.

“Are you doing anything right now?” Chris started again, trying to rein himself in and sound nonchalant. He felt awkward as he plotted his course of action on the fly. “Or doing anything later?”

“I’m just doing some weapon maintenance right now, but it’s not like my schedule is fit to bursting right now. Why, have something in mind?”

“Not anything extravagant. Beers and steak?”

“Classic. Sure, but um, I’m all the way back on base y’know?” Piers made a small cacophony of noise that made Chris pull the phone away from his ear.

“I can come get you,” Chris nodded, sounding like it was the easiest option until Piers just had to put a pin in his bubble.

“Captain, that’s a four hour drive just to pick me up for beers and steak. Double it if you count bringing me back to base.”

“Well, why not just bunk with me the next couple of nights?”

The shuffling of tools seemed to still from over the phone and Chris took a distracting sip from his coffee in a sad attempt to keep himself grounded. When Piers finally did break the silence, his lieutenant sounded unsure and it was not a tone Chris was used to hearing.

“You really wouldn’t mind?” Piers ventured slowly, putting away his cleaning kit.

“Really, Piers. It’s no big deal,” Chris reassured, stopping at the coolers in the back again to assess what he would need for a sudden guest. He was cashing in all his chips at this point and tucked the phone between chin and shoulder to fish out a twenty-four pack. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. There’s no pressure.”

“I can get a cab to take me to town; save yourself a trip.”

Chris almost dropped the case of beer in his grasp, surprise coloring his face that Piers wasn’t just brushing him off. He realized Piers was waiting for an answer and he forced himself to find his voice.

“Sounds fine to me! Pack a bag and come make yourself at home. Maybe you can even help me with these reports.”

“Chris Redfield, are you just baiting me with food and company so I’ll do your work for you?”

Chris laughed louder than he intended and the store clerk looked back towards him. He struggled to give her a nod with the phone tucked under his chin as he made his way up to the counter.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Regardless, you already said yes, so I’ll see you in a few hours, kay?”

“Mhmm. Later, Captain.”

Chapter Text

Finally getting back to his apartment, Chris was buzzing with energy. He kicked off his snow-caked boots, sweating with the effort of hauling in heavy bags lining his arms. He’d realized a little too late that there was no way he could entertain a guest on what little food he actually kept on hand between missions. Making a second trip out into the cold had put vigor back into Chris’ step as he mentally made a list of everything he’d need from the actual store and not a corner store only good for coffee and beer. The captain intended on making good on his word. He’d treat Piers to the best steak he was capable of whipping up on the stove. Chris almost wished it was summer so he could find an excuse to grill, but he’d already frozen his ass off as is.

Unloading the groceries on the dining table almost brought everything to a screeching halt as a harsh surprise hit him. Turning around from the table, the man was left with the daunting task of an apartment that had not been lived in for several months. Disuse meant dust and dust meant cleaning and cleaning meant mopping and vacuuming and Chris slapped a hand to his forehead with a verbal “Fuck.” Hiding behind his palm, he let out a heavy groan and was marginally hopefully that the snow might buy him extra time. It would be a long shot, but it was the best chance he had and Chris forced himself to act quickly.

As he got all the bags unloaded and put away, he decided the best plan of attack would be steak with steamed vegetables and garlic butter. It was doable in a short time and he at least had all the spices and seasoning he needed already. He paused in the kitchen, wondering if a vegetable medley was too plain. Would Piers care? Chris worked his jaw for a minute before he decided it would have to be enough. The captain wasn’t the best cook in the world, but he could keep himself fed with some flavor. Basically becoming a single parent to Claire didn’t leave him much choice but to learn how to cook.

Realizing he was lagging, Chris scrambled to get the apartment spruced up. At first glance, he was thankful that the dust hadn’t gotten too bad while he was away as he dusted the shelves and wiped down the windowsills. His nose wrinkled at the chemical stench of lemon spray across the top of the dining table and end tables in the living room. He had no idea if this seemed like overkill, but it wasn’t often he got to entertain guests. Who had the time? Chris sneezed into the crook of his elbow, nose burning from the dust and spray. A quick wipe down of the kitchen countertops and Chris finally felt a little less nervous about what was happening.

The only floors that really needed mopping were the bathroom and said kitchen he was still in. Both would be an easy task. Dusting and mopping ate up almost a half hour before he finally let himself breath and think about meal prepping. The idea of freshly seared steak was making his mouth water, but Chris focused on the medley first. He found himself falling into a comfortable rhythm as he decided on what vegetables to add. Carrots with squash, broccoli, and mushrooms seemed to offer the widest range of flavor with the right spice. The quiet sound of a knife on the cutting board filled the kitchen and Chris hummed a half-forgotten tune under his breath.

This was one of the rare things he missed the most about being home. It was the mundane things that seemed so forgettable until you actually had to do them. He barely paid attention to what he was humming, instinctively tapping his foot in tandem against the floor. There was almost nothing that could kill his mood just then until his phone vibrated against the counter behind him. Pushing the freshly chopped vegetables to the side, Chris wiped his hands and went to check the phone. His humming died the moment he read Piers’ text.

::The damn cab’s been delayed because the of the roads. I’m trying to see what my options are right now, but it might be an hour before anyone gets back to me with a straight answer.::

He read it over three times while he tried to ignore the small flare of a headache behind his eyes. He reminded himself to stay positive. Of course the roads were shit. It hadn’t stopped snowing since he’d left base. Chris looked back at the start of his medley dish and moved out of the kitchen with a sigh. If Piers was going to be another hour, then he was at least going to try crossing off vacuuming the carpets. This was the one project that needed the most attention anyways. It was always the chore Claire had to bully him into doing considering how they split the housework. He found himself stalling by the closet in the living room and he looked around his apartment with a frown.

Living alone sucked.

Chris was a little rough with the vacuum as he got its cord untangled and finally got onto the chore at hand. He started with the bedroom, dragging it over the carpet while mindlessly lost in thought. He ignored the sinking feeling in his gut as he shoved the head of the vacuum underneath the bed. Trying to process the idea of Piers not actually showing up worked his nerves over until the headache became annoying. He couldn’t put his finger on the word that would describe the range of emotions he was stuck with. Disappointed was the best he could come up with as the ease of the afternoon became a forgotten thing. The vacuuming kept him occupied, the loud noise of it blocking out the most of his thoughts while he concentrated.

Chris worked his way around to the other side when the vacuum lodged itself against an object beneath the bed. He shook the vacuum until it came free, pulling out the edge of a crumpled cardboard. The sight of it made the man suck in a breath and he slowly crouched down as he pulled it out the rest of the way. The box itself was barely holding together as aged as it was. It was filled with hastily stored mementos; things he’d thought to grab when he left for Europe after the collapse of S.T.A.R.S. What he hadn’t grabbed had been saved by a thoughtful Jill when they’d reunited after Raccoon. Guilt pooled in his stomach as he sat on the floor with his hands digging into the box.

Everything in the box felt tossed to the wayside. It was an old life he hadn’t ever really given himself the time to think about. So much of it had been dedicated to hunting down Umbrella and now the BSAA. Chris pulled out an old shirt, wrinkled to high heaven from its place at the bottom of the box. The bold print of the S.T.A.R.S. name was scrawled across the back with the RPD logo stamped on the upper left sleeve. It was standard issue and seeing it again made Chris look down at himself. He wasn’t some skinny kid anymore and there was no way this shirt would ever fit. The idea of tossing it just felt wrong and he set it back in the box to deal with later. His old badge and ID were down amongst the photo frames Jill had brought him. They were the small kind that sat out on the table with dusty glass and tarnished edges, but he was grateful that the pictures weren’t ruined. With no word from Piers still, Chris let himself keep going through the box.

The mementos eased the sting of his lonely afternoon when he finally stood up, taking the box to his dresser. He could take care of giving the items an actual home once the apartment was actually clean. Chris threw himself back into the cleaning, figuring he had at least another half hour of vacuuming through the dining and living room. He wanted to be thorough, more for himself now than having a guest over. The task let him burn off the worst of the disappointment when he finally did get a call he’d been waiting on all afternoon. He let the vacuum sit in the corner of the dining as he hit answer.

“I’m guessing you’ve got bad news for me?” Chris braced himself, leaning against the backside of a chair at the table.

He heard Piers hesitate over the phone and Chris sighed audibly. He hadn’t meant to make his lieutenant feel bad about something so clearly out of their control.

“With how the roads are right now, all non-essential transport is suspended until it gets dealt with. At least that’s what the jag-off secretary in Admin kept telling me.”

“I’m sure he was just doing his job.”

“The guy was watching the hockey game with his back turned to me! Even turned it up when I tried to argue with him.”

Chris could feel Piers’ frustration through his voice, but there was still an undercurrent of tension between the two men. A tension that Chris intended on fixing.

“I’m sure I’ll live, Piers. We can postpone. Not your fault, I promise.”

“It still sucks. I was actually looking forward to a few nights off base.”

“Aw, still miss my snoring?”

“Shut it. I checked the weather at least. It should lighten up enough for the roads to be safer tomorrow. If you’re still willing to entertain me, I think I can convince someone to get me out there.”

“I hadn’t planned on changing my mind, Nivans. I’ve spent too much time cleaning this damn apartment for you to not show up now.”

“Well…good,” Piers seemed to fumble for a moment, like he’d been prepared for a different answer and it stirred up the fluttering in Chris’ stomach once more.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Piers,” Chris spoke gently, desperately trying to ignore the feeling of butterflies getting worse. “You’re not putting me out here. I’m happy to have you over.”

“I never…It’s…”

Piers made a noise like he was clearing his throat and Chris traded weight from one foot to another. It wasn’t often that the captain found his lieutenant lacking for words and it opened them into a new territory that they were constantly navigating it seemed. Whether or not this territory had a name yet was beyond Chris. They rarely acknowledged it when their walls came down around each other. Chris took the lead again and let Piers breathe.

“Like I said, it’s all good. I’ll keep the steaks in the fridge. Just give me a heads up when things are squared, alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that. See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

The line went dead and Chris rubbed the side of his neck gingerly. Why did it suddenly feel like he was way in over his head?

Chapter Text

The radio hummed, a low rock ballad traveling from the crackling speakers. A blinker interrupted the soft music, signaling a string of lefts as the black Chevy rested at the empty intersection. Chris stared blankly at the red light, sitting back in a daze as his eyes roamed aimlessly. He felt lost as he waited for the light to turn, fingers drumming along the steering wheel. The skies were a light grey, swollen with the threat of snow. He clicked his tongue aloud in a soft tsk, not exactly excited for the prospect of more snow. Enough of it was piled up along the gutters from the plows as it was. He focused back on the light when it finally turned green, guiding his rusted truck down the next road. He drove further downtown in his effort to find a place to eat. His stomach growled in protest, a tired reminder that he’d skipped breakfast.

Chris frowned and rubbed his chin. The constant snow was wearing him down after three days of being stuck inside. He’d scrubbed his apartment from floor to ceiling just to be thorough after Piers had given him the bad news. A new day meant a new morning of hanging in silence with no new messages. He glanced haphazardly at his phone in the cup holder, screen as blank as can be. If the city was only just now digging itself out of the blizzard, then that meant the base two hours away must still be buried. Chris squeezed the wheel intermittently, trying to tamp down his frustration at the entire situation. He would just have to trust that Piers would find a way. The sniper almost always had an ace up his sleeve for jams like these.

He finally settled on a small coffee house he spied down the side of the street. Trundling into the parking lot, the engine died with a click. He whistled softly as he went inside the shop, the stiff scent of coffee wafting just under his nose. It was more crowded than he expected it to be and Chris felt slightly like a fish out of water. At six’foot’one, he wasn’t exactly the tallest individual around, but he stuck out amongst the other customers. No one else had his same build and stature. He sidled up to the front counter, snagging himself a tall black coffee and a half dozen donuts. He knew Claire would have beaten him senseless at such a poor brunch, but he had more important things to worry about. Taking a hot swallow of coffee, Chris emerged back into the cold November midday. The sky was still dark with clouds, but for the moment, it held the snow back and gave the world below a break. He took refuge by the passenger side door of his truck, yanking the stiff handle open to drop his box of donuts into the seat. They plopped down upon a thick stack of manila folders and Chris promptly shut the door, ignoring the unfinished field reports.

Cheeks flushed from the cold, Chris pulled up the collar of his coat and gingerly sipped at his drink. If only he was as diligent about finishing his own reports as he was reviewing Piers’. His lieutenant certainly maintained better discipline about paperwork than he ever did. Chris ran a hand through messy brown hair, leaning against the cold steel of his truck. He quietly entertained the idea that the diligence towards his tasks was not just for show. Piers may have been one of the younger recruits into Alpha Squad, but he pulled his weight further than most of the soldiers that have come and gone through their group.

Getting back into the truck, Chris finally forced himself to sit down and work. With the manila folder propped up against the wheel, he dug into the box of donuts. Grisly photos of BOWs and articles with stripes of black ink made his afternoon inch by. He scratched at the papers awkwardly with one hand, scribbling notes as he added addendums while trying to switch between coffee and donut. The caffeine helped keep his attention for the most part, but by the time he was through his third donut, Chris couldn’t take it anymore. Sick on sugar and paperwork, he wiped his mouth on the corner of his sleeve and sat back in the seat with a groan. He ran his eyes over the interior of the truck in irritation as he sat there.

He rose up, digging around in his pocket for the truck’s keys. The warm metal raked over his fingers as he got them loose and plugged them into the ignition. He twisted them once and the Chevy rumbled loudly in the quiet parking lot. Dropping the pile of papers back into the passenger seat, he threw the truck into drive without a place in mind to drive to. Fingers drumming softly on the wheel, he grew more agitated staring at the coffee shop’s windows where the blurry shapes of people moved from behind the glass. He almost missed the quiet vibration of his phone in the cup holder over the sound of the engine.

“It’s about damn time,” Chris mumbled impatiently, grabbing the phone.

::You awake?::

  ::It’s almost noon, Piers. Why wouldn’t I be?::

  ::Just checking, captain. You sleep pretty damn heavy sometimes.::

  ::Are you texting me just to mock me or did you have a point somewhere?::

  ::Right! Good news then. Finally scored a ride off base. I’m just getting a bag ready.::

 Chris sucked in a soft breath, a weight finally slipping off his shoulders at the news.

::Leaving soon then?::

  ::In about twenty minutes; still might take me two or three hours to get there. The roads aren’t great.::

  ::Don’t rush, Nivans. Just get here safe and I’ll make sure you’ve got a hot plate waiting for you.::

 Piers sent him a thumbs up emoji and Chris didn’t fight the smile that had settled onto his face. He dropped the phone back into the cup holder, urging his tired truck out of the parking lot so he could get back to his apartment. It was still spotless from his frantic cleaning spree, but he still felt like he could get it straightened up just a little more. Merging into traffic, Chris turned his wipers on as a soft flurry of snow stuck to the glass. The fat clouds overhead promised more snow, but they stayed kind into the afternoon. As he drove the streets, Chris followed traffic past a wide building that took up half a block. It was steely in the white daylight, glass windows reaching towards the curved roof.

A blue neon sign flashed above the revolving door entrance, displaying times for public skate openings. It took him a second to realize he was staring at an indoor ice rink until he spied the posters decorating the wide windows. Advertisements for hockey equipment and figure skating competitions were placed well within eyesight of the passerby in the street. He idled at the stoplight directly in front of the building, watching people come and go with excitement. The idea of another night in at his apartment made his skin itch and an idea started to worm its way into his brain. He nearly veered off into the visitor parking, but hesitation kept him in his lane. He craned his head to catch the public times one more time before traffic finally forced him to move on.

He hadn’t been skating since Claire was in high school. A glance down at the unfinished files made him balk and he sighed roughly. It was a stupid idea. There was no way in hell Piers would even go for it. He figured he’d just look ridiculous in those pearly white skates trying to remember how to even skate in the first place. He blamed Claire for the useless talent to begin with. He hunched his shoulders, gripping the steering wheel as he fixated on the idea that would just not go away. The stream of self-deprecating thoughts didn’t let up as they worked his nerves over even on the elevator ride back up to his small flat when he’d finally gotten home.

Coming back into his apartment, Chris felt aimless. He shrugged his coat off and left it along the backside of the sofa; phone and keys on the counter. A chill had set in, making him shiver and he checked the heat. Turning it to a toasty 74 degrees, he wandered into his bedroom. The box of mementos still sat untouched on his dresser and he felt the urge to finally give them proper places in his home. He took the picture frames, dusting them off gingerly as he looked around the apartment to set them up. The first frame held a picture of him and Jill celebrating their first successful case together as partners in S.T.A.R.S. He vaguely remembered that it was Barry who’d taken the picture at their precinct offices. Chris snorted a laugh when he saw Barry’s finger just down in the corner of the photo. He set the happy memory down next to a photo of him and Claire right after she’d gotten her driver’s license photo, a beaten up Harley sitting just behind them. He held up a few more frames, propping them up with the others: a fishing trip with Brad and Barry, Rebecca with drunk karaoke and darts after work, and Chris with Claire again as they turned their backs to show off their matching jackets.

The last photo frame from the box made him hesitate. He stared at it hard.

It was the one and only group photo ever taken of the entire S.T.A.R.S department with all team members present. Everyone looked stiff and professional, yet relaxed at who they were around. The photo had been for an article run in the local papers and every member was given a copy. The photo made him feel aged by a full decade as he counted off the faces of the many people who were no longer alive thanks to Umbrella. A particularly nasty sneer worked its way onto his face when his eyes fell onto the stoic face of Albert Wesker. The man never took his shades off, even for the photograph. It unnerved Chris until he reminded himself that the son of a bitch was finally dead.

He let the photo remain and set it face down behind the other frames he had displayed around the living room.

Moving back into his bedroom, Chris pulled out his badge and ID and left them on the dresser for another day. His old shirt was the last memory from the box and he folded it up into the bottom right drawer of clothes he barely touched. Closing the drawer felt like closing a chapter on his past and Chris moved away with a low sigh. He lingered in the doorway of his bedroom, looking at the clock on the wall. It was barely two p.m. and Chris didn’t expect Piers’ arrival until maybe five. A loud buzzing came from the kitchen counter, his phone sounding almost angry as it rattled against his keys. He managed to get it on the last ring, answering with a rough hello.

“Chris!” Claire all but shouted into the phone, excitement plain in her voice. He held it away from his ear with a wince.

“Hi-” he tried to say, wincing once more when she cut him off.

“I can’t believe it took you this long to call me! I had to hear it from Jill that you were finally home before I got your voicemail. Just who do you think you are, mister?”

“Claire, come on. I-”

“Nope! You don’t get to Claire me when I haven’t heard from my own brother in over a year.”

Chris let out a strained noise, covering his eyes as he got the chewing out of a lifetime by his baby sister. He knew he didn’t have a leg to stand on against her five minute tirade. He just let her get it out of her system before the infamous Redfield temper finally downgraded from a typhoon to a tropical storm. He put her on speaker, choosing to spare his left ear drum while she ranted. Claire drifted into silence as he leaned over the phone, chin propped up by the palm of his hand. He waited a beat before he murmured a quiet apology, guilt pooling in his gut for how often he worried her. Claire made a huffy noise through the phone, but her tone lacked bite as she went after him one last time.

“I’ve missed you, dummy. I have a right to know my big brother isn’t out there somewhere dead,” Claire pressed. A spinning dial popped up on his phone screen as the call switched to FaceTime.

He accepted the change in camera with a swipe of his finger. Blue eyes met deep brown and the worried frown Claire wore finally softened. Both of them talked quietly for a few more minutes, catching up after a year of virtual radio silence. Claire rambled on and on about a new conference coming up for TerraSave she’d be speaking at in December. Chris tried to add his own thoughts from time to time, an attempt to derail Claire’s long-winded explanation on the other end. It was no use as she just started to talk over him loudly, an obnoxious trait the both of them had developed as kids.

He finally got a word in edge-wise, reminding himself that he needed to talk to Claire about the upcoming holidays and Jill’s reunion that she wanted both Claire and Leon to attend. His sister hummed softly as she looked over her calendar, an excited gasp pitching through the phone when she told Chris she had the time. There were a few days she had just before her flight back to TerraSave HQ for the conference. He jotted down what she said, promising to relay it all back to Jill so they could finally nail down a permanent date. Another voice seemed to come from over Claire’s shoulder and Chris didn’t miss the unmistakable blond hair of one Leon Kennedy nosily listening in on the phone call.

“Sooooo…” Claire chimed over the phone, noises of a movie going on in the background. She shoved Leon out of view with a snort as Chris made an exasperated noise to see his little sister cozy on the couch with him.

“So what?” Chris mimed, suspicious of the note in her voice. His scowl increased when Leon covered up a muffled laugh and popcorn spilled slightly into Claire’s lap.

“What else has the great Chris Redfield been doing in his spare time?”

“Paperwork, Claire. I told you that already.”

“Ughhh, you’re so boring sometimes. What else besides BSAA work?”

“I got coffee this morning.”

" With?"

“Donuts.” Chris smirked, knowing her game all too well.

“Really? Just donuts?” She continued to bait him, voice rising impatiently.

“By myself, Claire.”

“Oh, come ON! Seriously? When are you going to put yourself out there, Chris? You need to get out and see the world.”

“I do. All the time, matter of fact.”

Claire’s hard stare was palpable through the phone and Chris shrugged, looking bored while hiding a grin behind a fist. Leon wisely said nothing as he took the popcorn bowl away from Claire.

“You only see things from behind a gun. When was the last time you actually relaxed?”

Chris looked at the clock and saw that it was a quarter to three. “Listen, I really don’t have time for rehashing on my lack of a night life.”

“Oh no, you don’t. Don’t hang up. It is not healthy to keep yourself cooped up like this.”

“I’m as healthy as a horse.”

“And as stubborn as a mule! Promise me that you’ll actually do other things than just sit at your apartment before you ship out again. Please, Chris?”

"Like what?” Chris knew he had her finally with this as her cheeks turned red and she all but shook the phone.

"Go to the park, the movies; or hell, a date! Something before you petrify to the couch.”

“Okay. Goodbye, Claire.”

“Promise!”

“I do! I swear. Now I gotta go. Love ya, brat.”

“Love you too!”

He begrudgingly waved goodbye at them both, not missing as Leon slipped an arm back around Claire as the screen went dark. His thumb rested on the end button tiredly. He continued to stare at the black screen, mulling over Claire’s words. He’d purposefully neglected to tell her Piers was coming to stay with him for the three weeks they had left of November for their shore leave. Her ribbing of his lack of social life was enough. He did not need to give her more ammo. Chris rubbed his stubbled chin despondently, more annoyed now. Surely he could find something fun to do. He didn’t just sit around in his dark apartment like she implied he did. A glance around said dark department made him scowl and he stalked off towards the bathroom attached to his bedroom. Chris Redfield could do fun. He’d show her. He took the phone with him, briskly typing out a new text message to Piers.

::Change of plans. Have the taxi drop you off at this address.::

 He didn’t think too far ahead about what he was doing as he sent Piers the street number for the ice rink. If he remembered correctly, the times for the evening public skate started at 5:30. That should give Piers enough time while traveling over the snow covered highways. Chris threw his phone onto the nightstand to charge as he shucked off his clothes and ducked into the shower. He turned the handle to a hot blaze, standing in the waterfall as it finally sunk in what he’d just done. He blinked the rivulets from his eyes and let his forehead thunk against the shower wall. He was in and out of the shower in ten minutes, feeling like a ball of nerves as he toweled off.

Chris lingered in front of the mirror, tying the towel at his waist as he looked himself over. There was certainly time to shave off the five o’clock shadow he’d been nursing for days. He turned his face left and right, unsure why he was even worried about primping. This was just Piers. It’s not like his lieutenant was going to care if he had a clean face or not, right? He bit his lip indecisively before he threw his hands up and moved away from the sink. The answer to that question was meant for another day as he searched for something to wear. Filled with too much energy suddenly, Chris dug through his closet until he fished out a dark green long-sleeve. He pulled it on with his dog tags, the jangling metal cool against damp skin.

He had his pants only half-way on when his phone buzzed against the night stand. Piers only sent him a thumbs up. The reply made his stomach do a flip and Chris cursed audibly. He stared at the emoji for a hot second, not really believing that Piers had agreed to the ice skating so quickly. He set the phone down, doing an awkward hop to get his pants fixed and the belt fastened. Chris really had no excuse now. He headed back into the bathroom, fingers raking through his unruly hair despite how short it was. He opened the mirror, observing a neat collection of essentials.

His hand stilled on a dark blue glass with a small silver top. It had been a gift from Jill; some kind of cologne that smelled like pine and mint. He lifted it from the shelf, reading the fancy name of the spray. He gave it a testing sprits against his wrist, sniffing at it. The sharp tones of both scents mixed together were pleasant on the nose. Closing the mirror brought his reflection swinging back into view and Chris blanched suddenly, wondering if the cologne was going a little overboard. He hadn’t even considered what it it could mean by putting it on. He looked back at himself in shock, bottle still in hand.

“This isn’t a date,” he exclaimed, hanging his head. “Damn it, Claire. This is your fault. God, what am I even doing?”

The cologne never left his grasp though, its contents swishing in the bottle when he moved. His gaze grew hard as he contemplated the decision. He growled a low note of disbelief as he raised the bottle, spritzing it across his chest. The air was immediately filled with the aroma of strong pine and an undertone of peppermint. He set it down with a clunk on the countertop, leaning over the sink with a sigh. It’s not a date, he chanted to himself. He bargained with his reflection, saying that he only sprayed it on because he liked the scent. His brown eyes stared right back at him, seeing through his own paper-thin lie, but Chris didn’t have time for it. He left the bathroom heatedly, shutting the door rather loud. He collapsed onto the edge of his bedside, checking the time. His fussing had managed to kill half an hour, but it wasn’t even four yet. The two hours until the supposed “not-a-date” taunted him and Chris got up from the bed and retreated into the living room.

He got his coat off the back of the couch, shrugging it on but leaving it unbuttoned. He took a second to pull his boots on, lacing them tight. He stayed glued to the couch cushion, staring nervously at the ticking hands of the wall clock. He quietly murmured that it was clearly not a date, face shoved tiredly into his hands. It really shouldn’t be a date his dog tags whispered from around his neck. Piers was his lieutenant for crying out loud. This had to violate some kind of code of ethics, right? Chris slumped down into the cushions, faced with a sudden disappointment he hadn’t been expecting.

The BSAA was not the American military. Chris didn’t actually know what their policy was on fraternization between ranking officers and subordinates. It definitely wouldn’t look good if Chris suddenly started showering one of his soldiers with overt favoritism. He let out an exasperated groan into his hands, wondering if he should bite the bullet and just ask Jill. If anyone would know the policies, it would be her since she sat on the Board of Operations for his branch. Both hands fell into his lap in defeat.

“He’s just a friend. Really.” Chris didn’t even know why he was arguing with himself.

The violent swirl of thoughts that hit him suddenly had the man scrambling for the remote as he turned the TV on and turned it up loud. The afternoon news coming on was a tried and true trick. No time to spiral if he couldn’t hear himself think. He refused to humor the truth just bubbling under the surface. He knew without a doubt that his feelings for Piers Nivans were far more than he let on. The two men had known each other for longer than a year and worked closely in the field. Admiration and built-up trust had Chris feeling things that felt borderline inappropriate. This new revelation had been going on for months, but he continued to bury it.

He stared at the TV screen, not really hearing it over the buzz of words in his head. He always thought he’d be content to just mentor Piers and spending time with his lieutenant would be enough. He had convinced himself it could be enough. This was Claire’s fault; her sneaky calls to condition him into dating. It had been years since he’d been serious with anyone. Jill came to mind suddenly and he dwelled on his oldest friend. He swallowed down the dryness in his mouth. Anything they had was now once upon a time; a part of their past neither one of them really spoke about. He didn’t regret it, but her disappearance and supposed “death” had forced him to really think about what his feelings were towards her.

The most bruising thought that came to Chris’ mind was the age gap between him and Piers. Chris was 38 for fuckssake while Piers was only 24. The gap was stunning when he put it into perspective. Piers still had a full life ahead of him while Chris had felt like he’d nearly lived half his own already. That final thought filled Chris with too many warring feelings and he mentally berated himself to get a grip. He was clearly over-thinking the entire situation and psyching himself out over absolutely nothing. They were going to spend their shore leave together as friends and that was how it had to remain. Chris nodded to himself, putting it to bed as he finally came back down to reality. The evening news had had changed to sports and he narrowed his eyes, wondering where the time had gone. He hadn’t meant to sit for so long. A glance at the clock on the wall made him leap off the couch. It said 5:46 p.m.

“FUCK. I’m late!”

Chapter Text

Lights bloomed along the city streets, illuminating gutters of slush and freshly fallen snow. The skating rink bustled with activity, people rushing inside from the November cold while one poor soul remained stranded on the sidewalk. An irritated Piers Nivans stood apart from the crowds, arms crossed firmly over his chest with fingers tucked away for warmth. He watched both the street and parking lot with a pensive glare. His eyes sought out a familiar bulky figure, but failed to find his shape amongst the people coming and going. The rapid tapping of his boot made a hollow sound against the wet concrete and he risked a glance back towards the brightly lit lobby of the rink that teased him with refuge. Letting out a soft huff, Piers readjusted the backpack slung over his shoulders. He had the bare essentials packed away with what little he actually kept on base.

“Where the hell are you, Chris?” Piers mumbled, teeth chattering behind a cloud of his breath.

A glance down at his phone showed him the time as half past six and no new messages from his captain. Rolling his eyes, he shoved the phone and his hands back into the pockets of his coat. The black fabric kept him mildly warm at best, but it definitely wasn’t meant for prolonged exposure to the snow. He kept it buttoned all the way up to the thick, dark blue scarf he had tucked around his neck. Piers could withstand the worst of conditions when the mission called for it, but this was supposed to be shore leave and he was cold and irritated. Sheer spite kept him rooted in front of the building to wait for Chris. He had every nerve to chew the other man out for being late, especially with the change in venue being all Chris’ idea.

Snow continued to fall, collecting in his short hair and the bunches of his scarf. His cheeks stung, flushed red from the cold. A rush of footsteps to his left took Piers by surprise as a heavy arm slung itself around his shoulders. It thumped the snow from his coat in a flurry and Piers turned a scathing glare right back at Chris Redfield. The other man rightfully looked guilty, hastily apologizing for being late. Losing track of time was a poor excuse, so he blamed the crappy roads and traffic of people who promptly forget how to drive once it snows. Piers only stared at Chris with a cross look, brushing the snow out of his hair indignantly before sighing. He made it sound dramatic on purpose just to watch the other man squirm a little.

“It’s just rude; expecting me to wait for you and all out here in the damn cold,” he snipped at his captain.

“You’re not wrong, but…” Chris straightened up and looked back at the open lobby of the rink. “Why not just wait inside? Y’know…where it’s warm?”

Piers’ gaze hardened noticeably and Chris tried very hard to keep the smirk off his face. He gingerly patted his lieutenant on the back, guiding him towards the building with another apology. He playfully checked Piers’ shoulder with his, a very subtle way of asking if he was really upset. Piers only rolled his eyes and gave Chris a very light shove through the automatic doors as they opened up. He blinked rapidly, eyes readjusting to the bright lobby. It was warm and inviting with seasonal colors hanging down from the rafters in deep reds and soft golds between the light fixtures. Garland wrapped itself around the pillars from ceiling to floor by rental counter, lively jazz music coming from hidden speakers.

There was a line of people already and both men squeezed in behind them. Piers people-watched as they waited, seeing a family with children putting their shoes away in the rental lockers. A woman sauntered just past them, balancing across the carpet in gleaming white skates. The line moved slow and Chris exhaled slightly, looking almost nervous beside Piers. Something was off. At least it felt that way as Piers spared a glance towards his captain. Was Chris embarrassed about the ice skating? It was about the last thing he expected to be doing, but by no means the worst way to spend an evening. It almost felt rude to ask with the way the other man kept fidgeting. The line moved and they were only two groups away.

“So…ice skating?” He still couldn’t stop himself. Chris looked like a deer in headlights.

“Want to do something else?” Chris’ entire posture was rigid, clearly not hiding his nerves as well as he thought he had been.

“No, it’s fine. I was just surprised. I didn’t even know you knew how to skate.”

“I’m probably rusty. Haven’t since Claire and I were kids. What about you?”

“There was a pond next to my house that froze in winter. I went out on it sometimes.”

“You any good?” Chris seemed to relax as Piers shrugged.

“Like you said: it’s been awhile,” Piers admitted when they finally got to the counter.

They rented a locker not far from the actual entrance to the rink, both their boots and Piers’ backpack stuffed into it. The rink itself was already brimming with groups of skaters rushing by and laughing. More music filtered in over the chill of the ice and Piers stood at the edge of the rink with Chris. It all felt so normal. Piers looked down at his hands for a moment and frowned. Normal felt foreign. It was a weird and unsettling feeling that Piers was confronting lately. He’d barely dipped his feet into the very depths of dealing with bioterrorism and Chris had more than enough experience in it for both their lifetimes. He looked at his captain briefly, wondering if he felt like this a lot when they came home. Judging by the way Chris pressed closer to the wall around the ice like Piers did told him he probably wasn’t far off.

“This is weird, isn’t it?” Chris piped up, almost like he read Piers’ mind. The crooked smile he wore was strained, yet relaxed. Piers barked out an unexpected laugh.

“It certainly isn’t Edonia. Cold enough though. Feels like we haven’t really left.”

“Happy to be off base at least?”

“More than you can imagine. So fucking boring without you guys there.”

And just like that things felt normal again. Their kind of normal. Chris patted Piers on the bicep, gently nodding his chin towards the small doorway to come and go on the ice. They moved with the excited crowd, elbow to elbow with people waiting for their turn to go out. Piers lingered at the edge, waiting for Chris to take the lead. Feeling more at ease, the older man seemed to glide naturally on the ice. Muscle memory kicked in and he turned in lazy circle to get a feel for his skates. Piers couldn’t help himself as he stared. The moments where Chris got to truly relax were rare. His captain came to a very slow stop just short of Piers at the wall, eyebrow quirked with a teasing curl of a smile.

“Whatcha waiting for?” Piers knew he’d been caught, but Chris let the staring slide. “Scared?”

It was perfect bait. Piers reached out to try and smack the man, but Chris reacted faster. He laughed as he slid backwards by a foot, gesturing towards the open entrance where a lull in the crowd meant Piers was the only one about to go through. An unspoken feeling seemed to linger in the air as they took each other in, neither of them quite brave enough to address it. A few more people went through the entrance way, breaking the tension as Piers followed after them. He had one foot out over the ice when he froze in the entrance way. The blade of the skate hadn’t even touched down when he drew his foot back in hesitation. Piers bristled when the playful smile Chris’ face morphed into a puzzled one.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he groused, forcing himself to grip the wall as he stepped back out. When the blade held, he dared to put all his weight on it. He turned to Chris with confidence when he was finally an arm-length’s away out on the ice. “See? I’m not scar-”

The rest of that sentence became a mess when his skate slid out from under him. Arms flailing, not even Chris was quick enough to prevent Piers from falling hard onto his back. The sniper was at a loss as his entire world turned sideways. The air flew from his lungs, left behind where he’d been standing. He let out a very pained wheeze, brain reeling as the bright lights blinded him from above. A small reprieve came when he squinted at them and Chris’ face came into view. Concern was written all over him, but Piers could see how the other man had to force himself to not smile. His own cheeks turned red with irritation and he sat up slowly, aching from head to toe.

He gingerly took Chris’ hand, glaring at him when he was finally back on his feet. He pushed his hands away when they brushed the ice off his coat, Chris asking if he was okay while smiling. Piers huffed a sigh, stumbling when he tried to skate away from the teasing. A strong grip caught him by the elbow and he was eased back towards the wall. He clung to it the moment it was within reach, shooting a look back at his captain who hung back with a studious look on his face. He stood straighter against the wall, suddenly feeling like he was back at drills. His scarf was askew and he struggled to fix it without letting go. A few more people skated through the gap between them and Chris drifted closer to spare Piers the embarrassment of what he was about to ask.

“You do know how to actually skate, right?” He started gently, still smiling. He kept the teasing to a minimum for now.

“Of course I do! I…” Piers seemed flustered, but focused. “I played hockey with my dad when we went out on the pond by our house.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“I was eight.”

“Did you actually wear skates?”

Piers’ defensive reply was almost automatic when he caught himself. The memories he had of winters on the pond came back piece by piece and the answer to Chris’ question made him look away irritably. He let out a faint “No” like the word had to be pried from him by force. He wobbled where he stood when he tried to test his luck. Chris sighed with a resigned smile, shaking his head as he took Piers by the arm to guide him away from the wall. He made it look so easy; avoiding the other skaters until they neared the center of the rink. Piers felt his already bruised confidence waning at the sheer openness of the ice. Chris steadied them both to a halt in an empty spot in the crowd, putting a serious look on his face when he turned back towards Piers.

The stern gaze mirrored the one he wore in the field and it was like a switch had flipped inside Piers. He straightened up on instinct. No one fooled around when Chris had his Captain face on. The impromptu lesson on skating became a drill as he ordered Piers to relax and just breathe. The familiarity of it was something Piers could appreciate as he followed the orders on reflex. They took it in baby steps for the next half hour as he built his confidence back up. He focused on just moving forward, Chris not far behind as they went across the ice. He made it a short way before his skate went sideways and brought him down on his rear. The shock ran up his tailbone and nearly sent tears to his eyes, but Piers pressed on.

At Chris’ encouragement, he finally managed to keep a slow pace across the ice until he at least reached the original wall they came from. His fingers enclosed around the railing happily before he looked back to Chris with his first grin of the night. The next hour came with moderate success as Piers managed to keep a steady beginner’s pace around the rink as Chris skated at a leisurely pace ahead of him. Piers actually found the evening fun as he kept skating. He breathed in the chill of the air, cheeks red with a rosy flush. He let his eyes shut for a moment, enjoying the sensation of gliding along. People laughed around him, rushing about in lazy races. He almost didn’t mind the struggle of staying on his feet when the rental skates finally agreed on what direction he wanted.

The mood was perfect and Chris let Piers pass him, slowing as he found a quiet spot against the rink wall to rest. One arm slung over the wall and the other tucked into his coat pocket, Chris let himself just bask in the moment. Everything felt slightly surreal again and he hesitated to disturb it as he kept an eye on Piers from a distance. The younger man drifted farther away with the tide of the crowd, but Chris didn’t let himself worry too much. Only one stumble slowed him down before he started to follow the curve of the rink. A softer melody of music came from the overhead speakers; the evening skate felt like it was winding down. Piers’ eyes were shut to the world and the smile on his face mirrored Chris’.

Watching Piers began to stir up the unspoken feelings he’d been fighting since he’d first got here. The warm flutter in his stomach became an unwelcome nuisance as his eyes strayed down the length of Piers’ backside before he yanked them away in shock at himself. A hot flush crept up the back of his neck and Chris felt a creeping shame at himself for even thinking it. Now was not the time for this, especially with Piers coming off his last unsteady lap around the rink. He looked unsettled, staring at the ice as he came close to where Chris was tucked away against the wall.

A sinking feeling sat in Chris’ gut as he tried to make his staring less obvious, opting to bounce between people-watching and making sure his lieutenant didn’t fall again. The once peaceful concentration that Piers had built up was harder to focus on once he realized his suspicions were right. His last pass had felt like a test and not once did the feeling of Chris’ eyes on him let up. He understood the itching sensation of being watched as he did it every day from behind the scope of his own rifle. A stare from his own captain never came close to unnerving him, but this one felt different somehow. He looked down at his skates and frowned. Was he doing something wrong? He was sure that his skating wasn’t that bad. Piers snuck a glance back at the other man and their eyes met yet again.

This time Piers saw them linger, drifting down his figure and then back up just as slow. Something hot pooled in Piers’ gut and it was like a shot of adrenaline to his nerves. Heat made his already rosy cheeks redder as he tried to turn back and focus on his skating. It was nothing. It had to be nothing. He let out a ragged noise as he forced himself to not read into it. He blindly followed the flow of the crowd, the number of them thinning out as people left the ice for somewhere warmer. When it came time to finish his lap, Piers dreaded even facing Chris. The feeling in his gut wouldn’t stop and only got worse as he got closer.

Chris would never look at him like that. Piers scoffed at the very idea.

A somewhat cruel voice in the back of his head whispered that Chris was out of his league. Piers’ face twisted into a scowl at himself and he sighed, feeling like there was a grain of truth to his ugliest thoughts over his friendship towards Chris. He shouldn’t have been humoring the chance that Chris’ stare meant more. He’d just make a fool of himself and wind up hurt. The scowl got worse until he looked back up to find Chris not very far away at all, both of them red in the face. Piers was quick to blame it on the cold, but Chris very much played the part of a man caught doing something he shouldn’t. The mess of feelings between them left Piers reeling so hard he barely realized it when he tried to get himself to stop, the toe-pick of his skate digging awkwardly into the ice. Fate worked against him, sending Piers plummeting face-first downwards. The hard fall took his breath, chin and cheek stinging as he scraped them hard against the ice.

“Piers!” Chris called, pulled out of his embarrassed stupor as he rushed over. “Shit. Are you alright?”

“Peachy,” he moaned, rolling onto his back.

“You’re bleeding…”

“It’s just a scrape. Now help me up.”

He kept a hand tucked around his chin, gripping Chris’ wrist hard as he was hauled to his feet. They lingered on the ice, nerves keeping them from addressing what they both kept thinking. Piers made himself face Chris, but he almost regretted it with the scarlet touch of color across his captain’s face that lingered. The heat bubbling up in him just got worse, spearheading the anxious curiosity he was at war with. Chris seemed to be the only one with enough strength to ignore it as he patted himself down. He found the handkerchief finally, pressing the soft fabric to Piers’ chin despite his annoyed hiss of pain. It stung, but the small gesture was enough to distract him. He mumbled a somewhat exhausted thanks, smiling slightly as Chris fussed over him.

“Your cheek doesn’t look too bad,” Chris murmured, his finger tentatively brushing over the angry red line down Piers’ face.

Piers felt the anxiety racing through him soften. He masked the way Chris’ hand touching his cheek made him feel with a wry joke. “Gee, thanks. Are you saying I’m still pretty?”

Chris seemed to pause for an unnaturally long beat and his hand pulled back slightly. Piers kicked himself, wondering if he’d just made things worse somehow. Instead, his captain made a soft tsking sound and told Piers to keep the handkerchief pressed down firmly. The order felt mechanical to Chris as he put some reluctant distance between himself and Piers. He took his lieutenant by the wrist and guided him off the ice, making a weak excuse that it was getting late. Chris walked away first as Piers lingered on the carpet. He looked down at his skates, angry at himself for saying it.

They returned to the locker area in silence, sitting apart from one another as they unlaced the skates and put their shoes back on. It was even colder than Piers recalled it being when they finally made it outside. A thick layer of snow blanketed the road, orange streetlamps illuminating the breeze of flakes in the air. The stillness of early winter setting in was somber. Piers sucked in a cold breath, holding onto a strap of his backpack as he wavered in the ankle-deep snow. Both men stood side by side for a few minutes, unsure of what to say until Chris broke the uneasy silence.

“How’s your chin?” he breathed, sounding almost nonchalant.

“Fine, Captain,” Piers said, tacking on the title reflexively.

“You know, we’re off duty. You don’t need to use my rank.”

“Force of habit.”

“Right.” The silence thickened and Chris looked at his phone. “It’s only about nine. Kinda late to make steak. I know I promised you a hot meal.”

Piers shivered as the wind kicked up and he stiffened when Chris’ arm wrapped around his shoulders without warning. The other man said nothing, just giving him a quiet tug in the direction of the parking lot. Despite everything, Piers found the touch familiar and comforting. He wanted literally anything else that would take his mind off the raging feelings that continued to confuse him. Chris kept him sheltered from the cold until they finally got to the old black Chevy covered in fresh snow. The engine rumbled to life as Piers slid into the passenger side, backpack haphazardly thrown into the floorboard. The heat clicked on and Piers dared to sink into the cracked leather of the seat and drink it in.

“There’s this little Chinese place around the corner from my building. How’s about take-out and some bad movies sound tonight?”

Piers looked over at his captain, an open and apologetic look on his face making the unspoken thoughts between them finally quiet down.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

Chapter Text

Four take-out containers and two movies later, Piers felt stuffed. They’d ordered so much food he thought he’d be sick on Chris’ couch. He weakly pushed the chow mein noodles away, blearily focusing back onto the TV screen. It was some action flick filled with explosions; an older one that Chris had seen when he was Piers’ age. He defended his entire collection of movies, calling them “timeless.” Piers didn’t even bother telling Chris that he liked those kinds of movies anyway. Watching the movies with Chris kept his attention split two different ways. One moment he’d be focusing on the plot and then the next, Chris would pull him out of it with commentary about the actors or just behind the scenes trivia. It made for a very interesting evening.

“Stop talking with your mouth full,” Piers snapped, shoving a napkin at Chris. “I have no idea what you’re saying!”

“I said-” Chris forced himself to swallow, looking pained as Piers laughed at him. “They replaced the actor who plays the main character’s best friend. How did you not notice?”

“I mean, it was pretty obvious, but I wasn’t aware it was that important. At least to you.”

“It’s wasted development! It’s pretty clear both actors had completely different interpretations.”

Piers threw his hands up in mock defeat, smirking because he knew it was a losing battle. He knew he probably had only a few more seconds of peace before Chris gave his arm a rough tap to pay attention to the screen. Said replaced actor was pulling off an aerial stunt that looked impossible to Piers, but Chris insisted that it was real maneuver that he’d seen practiced while in the Air Force. The giddiness Chris showed for the movie was infectious between them, keeping both men sucked in until the credits. Time drifted lazily in the apartment, all tension from earlier seemingly forgotten.

Piers’ battered face was the only real reminder left. The bandage along his chin itched, pulling on his skin any time he opened his mouth. His cheek was better off, but he knew it wouldn’t look so pretty in a day or two. Sinking down into the couch cushions, he stifled a rough yawn as Chris poked around the special features menu for a minute. The mess of their take-out covered the length of the coffee table. Piers made a soft groan and let his head flop back, regretting the food. If he hadn’t eaten so much already, he’d have stopped Chris when he noticed the other man stealing his container of noodles. Piers watched him in mild disgust at how brazen his captain could be when he talked to him, yet again, with a mouthful of stolen noodles.

“Ready for the next one?”

“I don’t know if I’ve got another one in me.” Piers didn’t hesitate to swat Chris’ hand away when he went for the last fortune cookie.

Chris feigned a hurt look all while his eyes followed the cookie. “Quitting on me already?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m entitled to some rest here, Redfield. I’m the one ‘wounded-in-action’ over here.”

His captain looked insulted as Piers opened the cookie so sought after. It broke evenly down the middle, the paper fortune falling into his lap. Piers popped the first half into mouth, not hiding his self-satisfied smirk towards Chris like a challenge. He held the other half as a prize in his palm. He ignored the other man’s prying eyes in favor of his forgotten fortune. He barely glanced at the lucky numbers, taking in the somehow generic yet ominous phrase: “Life favors those unafraid of leaps of faith.” Piers fiddled with the paper, slightly unsettled by the timing of it. He wadded it up quick, chucking it down into the rest of the trash littering the table.

The itch of the bandage on his chin brought him back to the chill of the ice rink; back to the feeling of eyes down his figure in ways he didn’t have words for. Damn the fortune. He wasn’t going back down this road. Piers made himself swallow the cookie that felt like cardboard mush on his tongue. He still held onto the other half, watching Chris from afar as he knelt in front of the shelves of DVDs beside the TV. Both of them were still in their clothes they’d worn to the rink. Piers felt his eyes become glued to a sliver of skin peeking out beneath Chris’ shirt. It rode up slightly as he dug through the lower shelves. His throat went dry and Piers averted his gaze when Chris came back to the couch, the third movie successfully loaded into the player.

“Here.” Piers loathed how his voice cracked, hand held out between them with the last of the cookie.

“What’s this for?” Chris looked surprised, almost hesitating to take the offered treat.

“I don’t know. Maybe I just…think you’d look less like a kicked puppy over not getting to eat my cookie of all things.”

Piers blanched, feeling a flush of heat to his cheeks. He felt like a dumbass with that excuse.

“Oh please. You’re the one who always looks like a kicked puppy.”

That got an offended noise out of the sniper. “Since when?”

“Since forever.”

“Honestly…how am I even supposed to respond to that?”

Chris let out choked snort, feeling overtired as he took the offered cookie before Piers could change his mind. He looked smug as he ate it and Piers felt an inch of regret, rubbing his forehead with exhaustion. He threw in the towel when it came to watching the next film. A hot shower and bed was all the energy he had for. Getting to his feet, Piers did a very long stretch to get the tightness out of his shoulders. He looked around the apartment, it dawning on him suddenly that he had no idea where anything was. This was his first time setting foot in Chris’ home. He rounded the couch, trying to take a guess where the bathroom was when Chris vaguely waved towards his open bedroom door.

Scooping up his forgotten backpack off the floor, Piers fumbled around in the dark until he found the lamp at Chris’ bedside. Turning it on spilled soft yellow light over the grey-blue bedspread and white sheets. The curtains were drawn down over the single window against the far wall. An armchair sat snug in a corner by the closet, a tall reading lamp settled beside it. Piers’ curiosity got the better of him as he set his backpack down onto the bed. It was a little less Spartan than he expected, but it hardly looked lived in. There weren’t photos decorating the bedroom like there were in the living room. It made him wonder how much time Chris actually got to come home.

He rubbed the side of his neck, an odd feeling in his stomach. That wasn’t his business. This was his captain’s private space; a luxury that many weren’t privy to in the military. Piers sucked in a breath, eyes still wandering when he saw a badge laying on Chris’ dresser. He couldn’t quite make out what it said in the sparse lighting, but it looked similar enough to an old photo of Chris’ younger days that Claire had shown him once. He dared to get a little closer as the odd feeling around his snooping got worse. That was something else he hadn’t exactly shared with Chris yet: the relationship he had with the younger Redfield.

Claire had reached out to him first; angry with Chris for never contacting her when he was abroad. Piers actually had no idea how bad things had gotten about Chris calling home until he got an email from Claire out of the blue. He’d been a little suspicious when he got an odd message request through official channels from, as Claire put it, “a representative of TerraSave.” He’d called her out on her bullshit for rigging the message priority system the BSAA had in place for field teams, but he couldn’t exactly fault her for why she did it. The unexpected friendship seemed to bloom from there and they kept in contact with one another regularly. Piers lied to himself if he said their conversations were strictly business. More and more of the messages became personal, especially when Chris was the topic of discussion. All these thoughts came in a flurry and left him feeling rattled. He stared hard at the badge when Chris’ voice from the living room made him jump.

“Did you get lost?”

“No!” Piers forced himself to refocus. Back to the bedside he went, scrambling to get what he needed from his backpack. When his hands came up empty, he let out an aggravated sigh. “I’m pretty sure I left my shower kit back on base though.”

“Well damn, Piers. Eating me out of house and home and now I have to share my shampoo?”

“Eating out of…you’re the one who stole my noodles!”

“And they were delicious!”

Piers came back through the doorway, a sharp retort dying on his tongue at the grin on Chris’ face tilted backwards over the couch. “What?”

“You’re predictable.”

“And you’re an ass as always, Redfield.”

He had half a mind to slam the door on Chris. He still heard the other man’s insufferable laughter for a minute and it unfortunately softened the edge to his temper. Chris was a different man when he didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders. The teasing they kept to a minimum on base seemed to double now that he was in the safety of his own home. Piers’ shoulders slumped in defeat. This was going to be a very long furlough. He just got the bathroom light on when Chris shouted that he was free to use whatever he needed. He took his backpack with him, quietly locking the door as leaned back against it.

Digging for a change of clothes, he got out the only pair of sweats he had to sleep in and an undershirt. Yanking the shower curtain open, he felt the soreness of the day hitting him all at once. A glance back into the bathroom mirror with his shirt off gave him an inkling of the bruises that would definitely show up from all his falls. Leaving the day’s clothes on the floor, Piers turned the shower handle to a blazing heat. Leaning into it with both hands on the wall, he let it beat against his muscles. The showers back on base were nothing in comparison to that moment. His eyes stayed shut, listening only to the sound of the spray.

He gingerly turned the heat down to a notch under scalding, fingers wiping the water from his face. The dual-tier shelf rack in the corner of the shower was fuller than he expected. Two different kinds of body wash sat tucked in with a shampoo-conditioner set. The bottom shelf had a bar of soap that smelled distinctly like cedarwood when he picked it up. The body washes themselves were a choice of peppermint or cinnamon and Piers couldn’t quiet stop himself from trying one. The spicy scent was pleasant on the nose as he lathered it in his hands. Something about it felt warm and familiar. He worked it over his arms and chest, thoughts chasing the memory as he tried to pin it down. Late nights on base came to mind suddenly; working side-by-side on field reports or simply trading stories while they checked weapons after drills. Nights that he distinctly recalled being shared with Chris when they finally started to open up to one another after six months together in Alpha.

Piers finished washing, struggling to keep his mind on track as he stayed in just a little bit longer to get his hair washed. The bathroom felt cold and humid all at once when he got out. He toweled off quickly, slipping into his sweats as he shivered. He swept the towel over his wet hair, haphazardly looking over the counter in search of hair gel. Did Chris actually own any? Piers’ search came up empty save for a bottle of cologne. Head tilted to the side, he picked it up and read the label. It wasn’t a brand he was familiar with, but it seemed high-end. Setting it back down, Piers let the towel hang around his shoulders when a knock at the door stopped his snooping.

“Almost done, Piers?” Chris asked from the other side.

“Yeah, I’m out,” Piers sighed, opening the door to his tired looking friend. “I don’t suppose I’d get lucky enough for you to have hair gel?”

“Um, maybe? Don’t really use that too much, so if I do, try the middle cabinet?”

“I’ll owe you one if you actually do.”

“Well, stop leaving your stuff behind and we’ll be even.”

Chris gave him a slight pat on the back, moving past him to claim the bathroom. He jerked a thumb towards the living room, letting him know he’d made up the couch for him. All traces of their movie binge were gone, clean and trash free. The gesture was small, but it made Piers feel more at home. The couch was a little snug to stretch out on at his height, but it still felt amazing to just lie down. A sheet had been carefully folded over the cushions, pillow and blanket calling his name as he settled under it. Chris had taken the trouble of turning off the lights, save for one just over the sink in the kitchen. It was just enough so that no one would trip in the middle of the night.

Piers, despite the tired pull behind his eyes, stayed awake.

He could hear Chris getting ready for bed. He folded his arms behind his head, eyes adjusting to the dark of the apartment. It was quieter than he expected, the howl of the weather muffled by the thick glass of the windows. He could hear a very faint ticking from the clock on the far wall over the TV and he wasn’t sure what time it was. The bathroom door clicked back open after a couple minutes and the shuffle of Chris’ feet over carpet came right after. Their steps came just shy of the bedroom doorway and Piers knew the other man was standing there. Only a few seconds past before Chris whispered a hoarse good night and shut the door. It almost made Piers laugh, the entire absurdity of the day bubbling up all at once. He pressed a hand over his face in disbelief, not sure if he had bad luck or was just plain cursed for being trapped on the couch of the man he should not have feelings for. He screwed his eyes shut, praying that the universe would be merciful to at least let him catch a few hours of sleep.

Chapter Text

The morning came lazily, sunlight filter in through the half-drawn curtains. It was barely past ten a.m. and Chris meandered as quietly as he could through the still of the apartment. The heaviness of sleep made him feel foggy, but a warm promise of coffee had him stumbling over the threshold into the kitchen. The cabinets creaked, earning a wince from Chris as he pulled down two mugs. His gaze darted towards the living room, fingers squeezing the ceramic as he listened for movement. He could vaguely hear the clock over the TV, but the sound of his guest’s soft breathing overpowered it from the couch. Piers never really snored. He slept soundly instead; always breathing through the nose. Chris let out a very careful sigh, finally getting the coffee brewing.

He scratched at the stubble along his jaw, eyes bleary as he yawned. He could hardly focus on the slow drip of his morning caffeine, shivering when bare skin brushed the cold counter top. Rubbing an eye, he stepped back and regretted going to bed shirtless. The apartment had seemed so much warmer last night. Lost in sleep-addled thoughts, he shuffled back towards his room. The dresser drawer scraped open, too loud to his own ears. He grabbed the first shirt he found, holding it in a fist as he glanced around the edge of the doorway. Piers seemed to stir, one arm loosely fallen across his face as he sunk down further into the blanket. A few tense seconds went by before Chris breathed.

Crisis averted.

At least it almost was until the coffeemaker beeped from the kitchen.

Chris dragged a hand down his face, mumbling that it was too early for this. He mustered enough effort to make it back to the kitchen, glaring at the steaming glass pitcher. The scent of medium roast wafted upwards like a peace offering. Chris just stared for a beat longer before he finally had a hot cup full to the brim in his grasp. Shirt forgotten on the counter, he basked in this particularly small victory. He took a long sip, feeling the warmth of it overcome the winter morning. Another sip and he gradually drifted his way towards the kitchen wall, eyes reading over the calendar. It was weird to think it had only been a few days since they started leave on the eleventh of November. They were barely into Monday already and Chris felt a confusing loss.

He rubbed the side of his neck, looking at the days blocked out. They had until about December 3^rd before they’d be back in the field. None of it ever seemed to last long enough. He sighed against the edge of his mug, sucking down the coffee before he could really taste it. The anxious creeping feeling in his stomach made him scowl when realized he’d just rushed through his drink. It was becoming a habit that he noticed and hated; never really letting himself slow down and just enjoy things. Try as he might, the habit persisted because it was easy. It was familiar and safe. It was a coping mechanism of living a life that truly never let him stop running. Chris worked his jaw, feeling the muscles click until he went back to the coffeemaker and poured another stubborn cup. This time he was going to enjoy it, even if he had to force it. Lingering in the kitchen entry, he spied his work bag sitting by the table and he felt his will to “enjoy” things waver.

The review for Piers’ reported was already down. His own review of the rest of Alpha’s reports was only half-finished and that wasn’t even counting the USB of unopened documents that he’d brought home with him. He couldn’t keep putting off and he swallowed his own denial as he approached the table. He always kept a laptop meant for taking work with him on leave. It was the only way he got anything done. Dropping down into a chair, he hissed a complaint at the cold contact of the wood. He looked down at himself and just shook his head. Trust him to keep his focus in the field, but not enough to remember the damn shirt for the second time.

He booted up the rather battered computer. He was greeted with his own tired reflection in the black screen before the log-in popped up. Chris tried not to dwell on how old he felt he looked, drowning his swirl of thoughts with another long sip of hot coffee. He glanced towards the couch, only seeing the edge of Piers’ blanket hanging over the arm. Maybe if Piers woke up and saw how much Chris had to do, he’d pity his captain. Maybe he’d even offer some help. Chris muffled a wry snort. Like hell that would happen. He’d just lecture Chris on putting off his duties. Then he’d offer to help with a lot of extra complaining like Chris was some cruel taskmaster.

It was always in good spirit. It just meant Chris’ tally of favors he owed Piers went up. Plugging the USB in, the screen lit up with files he had left to edit. Most of it was final patrol reports and inventory before shipping back home. The lack of a BOW presence within Edonia troubled Chris as he looked over local news clippings and internal surveys conducted by the ramshackle Edonian government. Sightings were hearsay at best, but potential rumors were enough to get BSAA boots on the ground. Hearsay or not, he was tired of waiting of waiting for the other shoe to drop. He had too much experience to believe the rumors meant nothing. Something ugly had to be waiting in the wings.

Shaking his head, Chris tried to work the tension away. Focusing back onto the edits he had left to do, he lost himself sound of renewed typing. Time crept by as he bounced between files, barely sparing a glance towards his house guest as almost an hour disappeared. He missed the shuffle of movement on the couch. Piers blinked blearily up at the ceiling, brain slowly catching up as he looked at his surroundings. The lack of an upper bunk made him freeze up until the faint smell of coffee had him pulling the blanket back. He stared until it finally sunk in that this was still Chris’ actual apartment. It hadn’t been a dream.

He sat up on his elbow, craning to look back over the pillow. Seeing Chris’ door wide open made him sit up haphazardly. His hair stuck up every which way, making him look rougher than he felt. Rubbing an eye, he followed the aroma in the air until he spied the actual Chris Redfield perched at the dining table. Hunched over his laptop and…shirtless. Piers blinked. Sleepy curiosity kept his gaze from leaving, a warm and confused feeling ghosting up his neck. The other man didn’t even seem to notice his companion was awake, too lost in the work before him. He concentrated with an illuminated pinch of his brow, the light of the computer screen sharpening the natural angles of his face. Piers realized the lights weren’t even turned on. Only sunlight over the carpet from the adjacent windows lit up the apartment. It was peaceful and Piers finally dragged himself up fully, arm hanging loosely over the back of the couch.

“G’morning?” He sounded groggy.

Chris jumped slightly in his seat, concentration broken. He squinted at the time on his laptop. “Morning is putting it loosely. It’s just about eleven.”

“It’s that late?”

“I let you sleep in. Figured since it seemed like I kept you up past your bedtime last night.”

“I have not been awake long enough for your bullshit, Chris. At least let me get my coffee first.”

He groaned at the other man’s soft laugh as he finally rolled off the couch. His abused muscles had other ideas. Twinges spasmed up and down his legs for a moment, making Piers wince until he stretched it out with a few tentative steps. They calmed down long enough for him to make it to the couch, his hands finding the lone mug just waiting for him. His mouth quirked into an appreciative smile. Coffee was an unspoken language between them. Piers always brought one for Chris if they had early meetings or no time for breakfast before drills. He filled his mug with the warm drink and an ungodly amount of sugar with just a dash of cream.

The sweet brew made him feel warm, still half-asleep on his feet. The lingering smile on his face became amused, eyes settling onto Chris’ forgotten shirt bawled up on the counter. He moved it, unveiling a box of donuts on the counter that made him pause. The evidence of Chris’ impromptu brunch was only a day old and still just as tantalizing. Piers didn’t hesitate in stealing one, coming to join Chris at the table with his new prize. Just for extra measure, he brought the discarded shirt with him and tossed it over his captain’s head. Chris’ indignant noise made Piers snicker as he found a chair at the table.

Neither of them said anything more, a comfortable silence settling between them as Chris worked and Piers nursed his drink. He pretended to not see the embarrassed flush across the other man’s face when he tugged his shirt on rather quickly. Feeling more awake with caffeine and food, he couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering over the stacks of papers on the tabletop. He felt a nagging need to double-check them. His hand twitched their way when he caught Chris’ eyes watching over the top of the computer. Piers looked caught, a frown marring his face as he failed to look busy with his mug. The way the edges of Chris’ eyes crinkled told Piers everything.

“Wipe that smile off your face,” he growled, cheeks now spotted with color.

“You are such a workaholic.” Chris’ voice dropped to a whisper, being purposefully dramatic to rile his partner up.

“I am not.”

“You’re worse than me. Admit it.”

“I’ll admit that I can at least get my work done on time.”

The quick barb was more than fair and Chris conceded with a good-natured shrug. Neither of them acknowledged it when Piers slid a stack of papers towards himself once his stolen donut was gone. It was just proofreading at this point. Chris may have hated paperwork, but he didn’t half-ass it either. The mutual work kept them sated for at least another hour. Piers shifted every now and again, absentmindedly rubbing his shoulder. His grimace was subconscious, too focused on reading to notice his own fidgeting. The muscles in his back twitched just out of reach, the falls from skating coming back with a vengeance.

He rolled his shoulders, ignoring the tightness as he set the pile of papers aside. He reached for another stack when the spasm lanced right through his shoulder. He nearly knocked his mug off the table in surprise. Piers caught it as it rattled around, coffee sloshing slightly over his hands. He waved his captain’s attention away, mumbling a frustrated apology. He dabbed at the spilled drink with napkins, keeping the papers away as his fingers tingled. The twinge stayed even as he rotated his arm back to get some relief. Muscle cramps would be common for anyone in the military. Working with high-powered, precision rifles made it just a little worse. Piers hadn’t exactly factored in how his falls would exacerbate that. Another shoulder roll had him gripping the edge of the table.

“Feeling okay?” Chris finally ventured, lowering the laptop screen.

“It’s just a cramp.” Piers thought he sounded reassuring. Chris’ expression said otherwise.

“You look like someone stabbed you.”

“I’m fine. Really, Captain.”

“You don’t need-”

“Reflex.”

Piers wasn’t quite meeting his gaze now and Chris sighed inwardly. He knew they could argue circles over this. Acting on instinct, he rounded the table with little word and came up behind Piers’ chair. He felt more than saw his lieutenant tense up as he cautiously settled his hands over his shoulders. Chris hesitated suddenly, unsure if this was the right decision. He sucked in a breath, quietly asking Piers to let him help. Piers couldn’t even summon the words if he tried; only giving a jerky nod to go ahead. Strong fingers flexed along his neck in a focused squeeze. They searched for the tightest points first, following the natural fall of Piers’ shoulders.

He had a thinner build than Chris did; muscles leanly-defined and angled. He tried to ignore the goosebumps up and down his arms as Chris worked at the shape of a knot just at the crest of his shoulder blade. The fingers pressed down firm, loosening the knot steadily. Piers stayed tight-lipped, not trusting his voice just then. When the muscle finally let go, he nearly slumped over the table in relief. Chris’ fingers journeyed lower, going after the worst of the tension at the bottom of his shoulder blade. At some gentle urging, Piers folded his arms over the tabletop. He leaned forward, baring the length of his back towards Chris.

He felt surprisingly vulnerable. The hard edge of a knuckle twisted into his shoulder, making him shiver. The muscle remained stubborn as Chris used three of his knuckles to work at the knot. He used his other hand for support, flat against Piers’ upper back to the left. He wasn’t sure what his lieutenant was thinking. The silence of the apartment gave him doubts as it stretched on. Being firmer with his knuckles, Chris finally felt the muscle start to give under him. A few more seconds and Piers bit into the side of his hand, barely muffling the relieved moans falling from his lips.

He refused to even look up from the table, flushed fully along the length of his neck. The heat grew worse when it seemed like Chris’ hands lingered on his back. The touch was almost feather-light, pulling away as the other man asked if he felt better. Piers barely nodded, his own voice rough as he tried to compose himself. He shouldn’t have been this flustered over one massage and yet his disappointment was palpable when Chris’ touch finally vanished. He redirected his attention on the mess of coffee and napkins before him while he massaged the side of his hand. Chris was back in his own seat, but his concerned gaze never left him.

“Thanks for that.” Piers forced a grateful smile onto his face, hiding his hands under the table when Chris seemed to glance at them. “Maybe…I took that fall a little harder than I thought.”

“It’s no problem.” Chris shrugged, looking pensive. He reached out, wiping up the last of the coffee. He sat back in his chair. “How about your chin? Need a new bandage?”

“No. No, it’s fine. I changed it after my shower. Shouldn’t need another one ‘til later.”

Chris continued to stared, worried about Piers’ suddenly caginess. It was like a wall constantly going up between them. Just when he thought they’d overcome it, he’d run smack into new one. He drummed his fingers against the fabric of his paints, weighing his choices. Piers had a hand resting over his scratched cheek, distracted by the hollow ache of it. He seemed reluctant to open up and Chris didn’t see it wise to pry. A glance back around the apartment and back to his laptop made Chris shut it all the way without a word. He couldn’t even see himself trying to finish. The reports could wait.

Maybe a light lunch would be the best way to fix things. He’d keep it simple. He took their forgotten mugs with him as he disappeared back into the kitchen. He dumped the coffee, leaving them at the sink as he dug around for a skillet in the cabinets below. All they had to pick from was the groceries from his last minute trip out. He got just enough to last them their furlough. He found his pan, a relieved grin settling onto his face. This would probably make Piers feel more at home. Scrambled eggs on toast sounded the best after such a late night in. The simple recipe reminded him so much of what little childhood he’d had. This was probably one of the first things he’d learned to cook once he was old enough to reach over the stove. The sizzle of fresh eggs was a relaxing sound and he couldn’t resist some mindless humming while he cracked two more into the skillet.

The sound of it was exactly what drew Piers out of himself. He appeared in the kitchen entry, watching his captain with intrigue. The Chris Redfield of the BSAA seemed like a completely different person from the Chris Redfield before him. There was no weight of command on his shoulders; no life or death scenario in front of him. The image of a man in from of his stove humming was refreshing in comparison. Piers moved into the kitchen quietly, easily slipping into place at Chris’ side. He picked up the loaf of bread from the counter, unwrapping it as the other man looked at him. He gave Chris a lazy shrug, asking how much toast he wanted.

Chris answered him with an easy smile, quipping they could eat as much as they wanted.

The very late breakfast kept both men in an easygoing mood as they cleared away the files and made space back at the table. Piers almost felt spoiled with all the good food he was getting. All the other members of Alpha were probably all eating home-cooked meals right then, but this felt different to Piers. He was the only one on vacation with the captain after all. He could imagine their teasing now. Whether or not he told anyone was completely at Chris’ discretion. For now, he could at least focus on what was in front of him. The messy triple-decker eggs between toast on Chris’ plate made him roll his eyes and he stuck to just his single slice with a healthy helping of eggs with pepper and salt.

“So Piers: what do you think we should do today?” Chris finally said between bites.

“Maybe no more ice skating.”

“Come on. It wasn’t that bad…was it?”

Piers only meant it as a joke, but the crestfallen look on Chris’ face made him feel guilty. “I had fun, okay? It was a nice surprise. I just don’t feel like eating any more ice.”

“Could always just poke around the city. See what’s out there.”

“Don’t you live here? Aren’t you supposed to know?”

“I spend like three quarters of the year abroad. Cut me some slack!”

Piers’ laugh was swallowed around a mouthful of toast.

And that was how both men found themselves venturing out into the stark chill of winter outside. Bundled back up in his coat and scarf, Piers felt excited to get out and stretch his legs. This city was absolutely new to him and Chris drove with little direction in mind. The nasty weather had finally broken, leaving them with blazing sunlight that glistened on every spot of snow. Being midday, traffic was sparse through the city-blocks as they made their way downtown. Piers squinted against the harsh light, pulling the passenger side visor down. The sky was pale blue, empty against the tall buildings. The heat was on at half-blast, the radio humming some nameless melody that filled the narrow cabin of the truck. Piers took a sidelong glance at the other man driving. Chris drove with one gloved hand, his left arm propped against the door. His head moved just so, bobbing along to the music. He eased them through slush-filled roads, turning as they got into the actual limits of downtown.

His rusted Chevy chugged in the cold, the sound of the engine making Piers wonder how much life the old truck still hand left. There wasn’t a ton of room inside the cabin either. Piers stretched his legs out, knees knocking slightly against the underside of the glovebox. The seat they both sat on was a single surface that stretched across the interior. It was a beater in every sense of the word.

“I’m guessing you like your truck like you like your movies.” Piers leaned back in his seat, hands fanned out in the air before him. “Classic.”

“More like it only cost me a couple thousand.” Chris gave the dashboard a rather loving pat. He glared slightly at Piers out of the corner of his eye. “It possibly being a classic is just a bonus.”

“And you called me predictable.”

Chris shifted behind the wheel, swatting at his lieutenant with intentions to kill. Piers blocked it with an ugly laugh, calling for a truce when a hand smothered his freshly gelled hair. He fixed it the best he could in the visor mirror, making an annoyed tsk. He groused at Chris, complaining that he fought dirty. He settled back into his seat, burrowing down into his scarf slightly. The fabric was warm and the heat from the vents set him at ease. He couldn’t quite keep himself from humming along to the music as Chris turned the radio up. He wasn’t sure what the song was, but he enjoyed the way Chris was faintly singing the words.

He was drawn in by the way Chris’ voice leaned on the rougher side towards the lower notes. Face half-hidden by his scarf kept the color in his cheeks from showing. He didn’t shy away from the buzz of feelings in his chest as fast as he normally would. He dared to entertain them as he watched Chris. The longer he watched, the more the feelings turned to a bittersweet tightness. He squeezed his hands together in his lap, bunching up the edge of his coat. Something started to bubble its way up, forming words that he wasn’t sure if he had the confidence to confront. His mouth opened behind the scarf, voice stumbling when the song ended.

He faked a cough, saving himself as he cleared his throat. Chris didn’t even seem to notice as he fiddled with the knobs, changing stations as it went on commercial. He sat there frozen in the passenger seat, the words still stuck in his throat. He squeezed his hands together so tightly he could feel the strain around his fingers. Piers let go with a rattling breath, arms crossing over his chest. Turning back to the window, he leaned against the door and felt exhausted. The bittersweet feeling became just that: bitter. He felt like a coward. He looked out the window, eyes searching for any kind of distraction. A billboard went by that he barely saw, but the bright words were enough.

“Looks like a farmer’s market or something,” he mumbled, sinking down further into his scarf.

“Indoor or outdoor?”

“M’not sure. Didn’t get a good look at the sign.”

“Eh, well, gives us something to do. Better than wasting gas.”

Piers made a noise of agreement, leg bouncing anxiously against the floorboard. They drove until another sign pointed out the barely crowded parking lot. It seemed to be a four-story market with a list of vendors displayed in the lobby as both men hurried inside from the cold. Piers had his hands stuffed into his pockets, fingers balled into fists as he ignored the mess of his feelings. Why couldn’t he have things easy? Just this once. He could barely focus on the list of names, head tilted to the side as he stared. Everything on the first floor seemed to be food; from truck-style to homemade to basic grocery. The second floor seemed a little more promising, Chris bumping softly against Piers’ shoulder to wake him up from his lost stare.

“I’ve got this thing coming up with Jill. Supposed to be like a get together while we’re on leave.”

Piers made a very muted sound, the little tidbit about Jill suddenly making him feel worse.

“You could help me pick something out.”

Again, he managed a noise.

“Let’s see. I’m not entirely sure how often she’s actually at her home. I’m not sure if a housewarming present is the right thing. Maybe something for her office…"

Chris was fishing, his stare growing pointed as he tried to parse out exactly what had Piers in such a sullen mood all of a sudden. His lieutenant shrugged, carefully peeling himself away from the scrutiny of the other as he headed for the elevators. He stood outside the plain silver doors, looking at the dull light of the “Up” button and he couldn’t bring himself to push it. An elevator suddenly felt far too intimate a space for the way he was feeling. Sneaking a glance back at Chris made Piers even more wary of being caught in a corner with no way out. So he opted for the stairs. He went first, gloved hands smacking his cheeks lightly to make him focus. Everything about being with alone with Chris on their furlough put him out of his depth. It was such a foreign feeling that Piers could hardly shake.

The heavy thump of Chris’ boots on the stairs just behind him made him startle when a hand grabbed him by the edge of his sleeve. They stopped awkwardly on the stairs, a few cement steps between them. Piers was taller for once and he didn’t have it in him to even find the reversal somewhat amusing. It just made him more hyper-aware of Chris’ solid gaze fixed on him. The other man didn’t exactly let go of his sleeve, the connection like a lead weight on Piers arm as he tilted slightly forward. He wasn’t sure if he was lucky or damned with the privacy the stairwell gave them for now.

“Can you slow down for a second? You look like you’re gonna throw up,” Chris breathed, rising up a step and putting himself eye-level with Piers. “What’s wrong?”

Piers felt his mouth go dry and he scrambled for something that wouldn’t give away what he was really thinking. Everything single possible answer his brain produced came up empty and he floundered, free hand wrapped tightly around the stairwell railing for support. Chris’ brow furrowed and he pulled a bit more on Piers’ jacket, shaking it like he was trying to get the younger man to snap to. The silence became strained between them as Piers truly reached the bottom of the barrel for something to blame his mood on.

“I don’t think we ever actually talked about how long you wanted me to stay.”

That seemed to catch Chris off guard and Piers ran with it.

“I only brought clothes for like a few days. I wasn’t sure and now you’re mentioning other plans you seem to have with Jill, so I’m just a little…fuck, lost, maybe?”

Piers waved his hands about, spinning the half-truth just enough that Chris had finally let go of his coat. His cheeks prickled with heat, swallowing his pride in one go. He knew what he was saying had a double meaning and he hated that it even had a hint of jealousy. It was an ugly emotion that made him take a step back up the stairs, gesturing towards the second floor like they should keep going. He turned, making it a few more stairs up before he turned back. His stomach churned when Chris didn’t follow him right away. His gaze never quite left where Piers had been standing.

“I didn’t even think to ask that, did I?” Chris said finally, but the question seemed directed at himself. “I just assumed…”

Piers drifted between steps, coming back down by one. “Assumed?”

“I’d like you to stay for the entire leave.”

“What?”

“I should have been clearer. I invited you and assumed you’d want to stay until we shipped out.”

It was Chris’ turn to catch Piers off guard, his candor making the sniper feel breathless. Chris closed the space between them carefully, joining Piers as he ushered him to finish going up the stairs. The very little space it left between them felt electrifying and Piers had to hurry to catch up as it passed him by. They came from the stairwell, fidgety and restless. No one seemed to be nearby and it gave Piers a second to breathe as Chris stepped away to look up and down the hall. He looked at his captain’s back, conflicted at how he should feel. His words felt rushed, but he wanted to understand.

“What about Jill?” He adjusted his scarf, pulling at it reflexively when Chris looked at him.

“She wants to plan a reunion. For the survivors of Raccoon.”

Piers’ stomach twisted, feeling stupid for even being jealous over something like that once he understood. Jill and Chris had known each other for decades. It made sense they’d try to plan a get together for what was left of their friends. He ran a hand down the back of his neck, joining Chris in the open hall. They walked for a few minutes, the electricity dwindling between them. Piers looked through windows; some dark with and empty with the time of year. Winter was an awkward space for vendors in a farmer’s market. The few stalls that were open veered towards handcrafted decorations and Piers stopped in front of table with woodcarvings.

There were a handful of small sculptures: carved birds and woodland dwellers. He was drawn to a carving of two stag standing side by side on a small pedestal, their crowns of antlers intertwined like they grew from one another. He gently ran a finger over the polished wood, glancing over the price tag as Chris left him alone to look at other carvings. Another table had wooden slices with painted scenery, showing many beautifully illustrated trees with bright, blooming leaves. Piers glanced at the other man, fingers curling away from the sculpture as he contemplated what to say.

“What does Jill like?”

Chris didn’t look up from the painting he gazed at, but the soft question made the divide between them a little easier to cross. He was glued to the blazing yellow leaves painted so delicately along thin white branches spotted with black stripes. The birch forest seemed to loom tall, even in the narrow confines of the piece. Wild foxes were brushed in at the bottom of the trees. A trio of them lingered, seeming lost and Chris picked it up when Piers finally came over.

“I remember us always planning a camping trip up in Arklay. We just never seemed to have the time.”

“Was that before…?”

“All the murders started? Yeah. Talks of a serial killer in the woods put a kibosh on that real quick.”

Piers grimaced slightly, unsure if reminding Chris of Raccoon was the best course. He rarely ever opened up about it, but he always seemed to drop those particular walls around Piers. It always had a way of leaving him reeling from the dark memories Chris kept close to himself. If he truly could trust Piers as much as he trusted Jill, then that had to count for something. He didn’t miss the way the man continued to stare at the golden leaves on the painting and nudged Chris’ hand holding the artwork. It was enough to pull his captain out of his stupor, eyes lifting finally towards Piers. He understood that look on his face before he even had to explain.

“Seems like you already figured out what to buy her.” Piers tapped a finger lightly on the wood slice painting.

“Yeah…probably.” Chris let out a breathy noise not quite a laugh.

He didn’t say much more on what he was thinking, carrying the piece towards a woman running the stall’s register. Piers stayed by the rest of the paintings, eyes drifting over them aimlessly. He felt the bitterness still in his chest, but he made himself ignore it. He wasn’t sure if Chris was upset with him and he let his gaze wander back onto the sculpture of the two stags. It pulled him in a way and he wondered if that was how Chris felt looking at the painted woods. He sighed, face canted towards the ceiling for a moment with his eyes shut. The ruffle of a paper bag came from behind him and he turned slightly when Chris came back.

“Want to still keep looking?” Piers offered, hoping that he hadn’t entirely ruined their afternoon.

“Only if you do.”

The answer lacked the energy Piers had been hoping for. Chris looked distracted, bag in hand as he looked down the hall where other shops still waited. Piers bit his lip, taking a step in their direction, but not before he grabbed the other man by his wrist and took the lead. He felt like he was dragging him until the pull on grip evened out and Chris fell into step beside him. He almost forgot to let go, fingers sliding down over Chris’ own until they fell away between them. He dwelled on what was said in the stairwell, feeling as if his captain deserved the same kind of candor.

Piers cleared his throat, leaning in slightly closer. “I’ll stay.”

Chris’ eyes came up, head tilted to the side. “You will?”

“You asked and I’m agreeing. Again, technically. I’d like to stay.”

“Are you sure? I feel like I kind of sprung this on you…”

“I mean it,” Piers murmured, stopping just short of Chris as they walked. He fidgeted with his scarf, feeling too warm all at once. He mustered an unsure smile. “It would be nice to not be alone, y’know? On base. Or…anywhere, I guess.”

A number of emotions seemed to flicker over Chris’ stony expression until it broke into a relieved grin. He gripped the paper bag a bit tighter, nodding his head slightly as he settled a free hand on Piers’ shoulder. “I know the feeling.”

“I’m still not exactly packed for a trip like this.”

That finally got genuine laugh out of Chris and Piers found himself squished into a sudden and crushing hug. Chris only used one arm, but the strength of it made him feel the squeeze in his shoulders. It only lasted for a second, Piers arms hanging in the air when Chris eased back. Still grinning, he motioned for Piers to follow him. His arms fell to his sides, quiet feelings bubbling up as he watched Chris start down the hall. They stayed quiet for once, giving him a chance to chase after the other man before they both finally disappeared into the throng of the farmer’s market.

Chapter Text

They spent the rest of the day and half of the next spelunking across the city. Picking a random direction to drive became their game and Piers was the navigator. He’d already managed to find them a few new places to explore. Several blocks away from Chris’ apartment was a rare spot: a pool hall that advertised late hours and hot meals. It looked a little rough on the outside, but the interior was warm and inviting when they’d gambled on stopping in for a burger. The sharp clack of the pool balls filled the quiet as Piers leaned over a tabled lined in red fabric. He’d managed to claim solids in a near clean sweep straight into their third game.

Another hard clack sent a lone yellow bouncing into the center pocket. Five down, two to go. He whistled softly, slipping around the edge of the table. It had been twenty minutes and he could feel Chris stewing on the barstool at their hightop. He gave his captain a particularly pointy grin, taking his time as he searched for an angle. A few more shots and they’d be oh-for-three with Piers as the victor. One hip cocked out to the side, he toyed with his pool cue for a moment. He briefly wondered if he should even give Chris a chance at beating him. A beat passed before he’d even made up his mind until the other man just couldn’t resist butting in.

“Just take the shot already!” Chris griped, slapping his hand down over his thigh. “My ass is going numb in this seat.

Piers rolled his eyes, letting go of any chances he was going to give Chris now. He found his angle, bouncing the ball off the bumper into a corner pocket. He leaned back on his heels, as smug as could be with only one solid left to sink. “Are you always this grumpy when you lose?”

“You’re just showing off.”

“Woooh, going for potshots now? Weak, Redfield.”

Chris just shook his head, throwing his hands up with an annoyed grunt. He went back to his burger, burying his impending defeat under a hearty bite of bacon and cheese. Truth be told, he was content to just sit and watch. Piers finally looked truly relaxed. Chris leaned on his elbows, propped up on the table by their beers. There were only a few other tables filled, most of them away from the pool area. A fair number of people were tucked up at the bar where different TVs replayed games and sports highlights. The wide windows that ran along the far wall of the hall were tinted, but they still let in a fair amount of sunlight.

It was bright enough to make him squint against the harsh natural light compared to the low setting kept on above the pool tables. He glanced away from the windows, blinking away the green haze outlining his vision. Another clack of a stick against the ball followed by Piers coming back to the table made him sigh aloud. He didn’t have to look at his lieutenant to know what he was thinking. He was going to rub it in anyway. Piers had at least a little decency to wait for Chris to finish his burger before gloating.

“Shall we call it?” He whispered, leaning on both his elbows against the table.

“Best four out of five,” Chris challenged, watching the grin on Piers’ face fall.

“Really? It we’re playing to five, I still win…”

“Best four out of five: winner takes all!”

They sized one another up, Chris sitting up taller in his seat. Piers muttered something that his captain didn’t quite catch before his bright smile returned. He gave Chris a very light shove, plopping down onto his own stool. “You go first. I’m going to eat.”

The softness of Chris’ own smile as he stood made Piers feel butterflies for up to the eighth time that day. They’d had one more night of late movies before exploring the city again. Chris seemed particularly in high spirits since their discussion about Piers staying on through furlough. He dwelled on the fluttery sensation in his stomach while alone at the table. They were barely into the afternoon and it was only a Tuesday. He had at least another two full weeks of enduring everything his brain was willing to torture him with. Piers rubbed his cheek absentmindedly, a very dull ache blooming under his fingers. A colorful bruise had already started to form.

The scratch really wasn’t that bad, but it still looked like he’d been sucker-punched. The bandage along his chin was the most annoying, pulling every time he laughed or smiled. It felt so insignificant to think about it, but he could tell it still bothered Chris. The fall itself had looked a lot scarier than it actually had been. He wondered if Chris blamed himself for it. His finger ran over the span of his bandage thoughtfully. The entire moment was still stuck in his brain on a loop. He would never blame his captain, but…the truth nagged at him. Chris had been staring and the intensity of it had made Piers nervous.

The entire thing felt ridiculous. Piers felt ridiculous as he watched Chris choose solids this round, already pocketing a ball to put him in the lead. They looked at one another for a fleeting second, pool table between them and Piers felt his face turn red. Chris Redfield was winking at him, a lopsided smile marking his jaw just as he sunk another ball. The smile became wider when Piers discreetly flipped him off. Chris rounded the table for his next shot, giving Piers an opening to turn back to his untouched food. He let out a flustered noise against his hand, the length of his fingers cupping around his mouth and chin.

He felt aimless. Nothing made sense since the ice rink and he continued to question how he was supposed to read things. There was only one crystal clear fact that Piers couldn’t stop thinking about. Chris had been staring and he’d gotten caught staring. He kept thinking about that one single moment, pool cue twisting against the floor quietly between the fingers of his free hand. Another ball sunk in towards Chris’ lead and Piers blew out a shaky stream of air. He forced himself back into the moment at hand, feeling a little worn and questioned if the entire thing was even worth the energy.

No part of him could truly be mad about it, but he still wrestled with the deep confusion it caused him. He gripped the cue a bit tightly, frustrated as he thought himself in circles. None of these mental hurdles could possibly be worth it. Another ball clacked quietly into a pocket and Piers mentally slapped himself to move on. He sighed, abandoning his pool cue to finally eat his lunch. His eyes wandered, drifting between the few people at the bar by the doors. There was a couple regular tables by the bar, only one of them occupied by a trio of women. He barely gave them a passing glance until the middle brunette seemed to notice him looking. Her smile was far more flirtatious than friendly and Piers barely mustered a polite nod.

She seemed to take it as an invitation and winked, very faint laughter coming from the other two women at the table. It was nothing like Chris’. Piers kept his expression tight, body language not entirely inviting as he jerked his head down back towards his plate. He wanted nothing to do with anything she had in mind just then. He twisted slightly in his seat, angled so his back would be to their table and he could pay attention to rather one-sided game Chris was playing. The other man’s warm grin set Piers at ease once more, forgetting about the woman by the bar. He made it a few bites into his burger when a buzzing rattled the surface of the hightop. His eyes searched between the plates until he finally found Chris’ phone vibrating under a napkin.

The caller ID showed “Jill Valentine” and the rather pleasant feeling he had all but dried up.

“Jill’s calling you,” he finally said, holding up the phone.

“Answer it for me, will you? I’m on a streak.” Chris barely looked over his shoulder, concentrating on his next shot.

Piers stared at the screen for a very long moment until he got his hand to cooperate. “Nivans here.”

“Oh! Piers!" Jill sounded surprised. Even a little out of breath. “Where’s Chris?”

His eyes drifted towards the conveniently bent-over backside of his captain and he averted his gaze just as fast. “Playing pool and didn’t want to interrupt his ‘streak’ apparently.”

“I heard that,” Chris answered, taking the view with him as he circled the table.

“Typical,” Jill muttered, the sound of walking coming through on her end. ‘Well, I don’t suppose you can convince him to take a five minute break so we can talk? It’s urgent.”

“She says it’s urgent, Captain.”

“Piers-”

“Reflex. I’m sorry!”

Jill didn’t even hide her laugh from over the phone. Piers felt his cheeks flush and he knew he must’ve had a pout on his face when Chris finally pulled himself away from their game. The older man looked sheepish, quietly motioning for the phone. Piers handed it off like he’d been burned. He took Chris’ cue, holding both of theirs with one hand. He tapped his fingers against the wood, growing bored as Chris and Jill talked quietly. Chris leaned against his barstool, tilting is back on two legs from his heels. Piers took to nursing his beer. He vaguely heard Jill’s voice from the phone, something about “Saturday night” being thrown around as Chris’ eyebrows furrowed. He asked if that seemed too last minute and Piers grew more curious when Jill got louder over the phone. Chris placated her, patting the air like she could actually see him.

He agreed that the date was a little rushed, but it seemed like the only perfect window they’d get. Piers cocked his head to the side, not even pretending to not eavesdrop. Chris nodded more, promising that he would tell Claire as soon as the call was done. Jill continued to talk, pulling Chris from the table as he started to pace. He didn’t go far, foot tapping as he idled by the pool table. He waved a hand again, fingers flexing in an invisible gesture to something Jill said. Piers wondered if Chris even realized how much he talked with his hands. It was distracting enough to keep the sniper’s boredom at bay.

He still swung his foot out, boot scuffing the carpet as he waited. He watched those fingers trade phone hand-to-hand, now settling against the red fabric tabletop. If Chris wasn’t careful, he was going to ruin his streak by accidentally pocketing the white ball. Piers felt his lips quirk up at the edges, almost wishing he would just to see the look on Chris’ face when the phone call ended. He was denied his wish when the man moved away from the table like he intended on going outside. Piers almost dropped their sticks, halfway up off his stool when Chris waived him back. He gestured with his free hand, asking for five minutes as he kept going for the door. Piers frowned, firmly back in his seat as his eyes followed the blurry image of his captain through the windows.

“Okay, I’m outside,” Chris finally said, lifting his voice from above a whisper. He could feel Piers’ eyes on him and he suddenly felt very guilty.

“What’s got you so secretive?” Jill sounded amused.\

“I-” Chris started, his voice failing him as it really sunk in what he was about to ask. “Can you…check on something for me?”

“Name it.”

“I need to know the BSAA’s policies on fraternization.”

Jill’s weighty silence made Chris’ stomach twist so fiercely he was convinced he’d throw up right there on the sidewalk. He rubbed a hand across his forehead until she finally did speak. “They’re pretty lax actually.”

Chris felt something short circuit. “What?”

“I said they’re lax. Official records discourage internal fraternization, but there is no language in the policies that outright bans it.”

“And you just knew that off the top of your head?”

“And then some.”

Jill sounded satisfied and Chris could only grit his teeth, mumbling a very quiet: “What the fuck?”

“Any other questions, fly boy?”

“What about…damn it. What’s it say about superior-subordinate fraternization?”

“That’s a little more tricky, Chris.” Jill’s tone softened considerably and Chris couldn’t tell if she sounded sorry for him.

He braced himself. “Let me guess…”

“There’s paperwork.”

“What?”

“You have to file paperwork with the board overseeing your unit if both of you are in Alpha.”

“I don’t…”

“Both parties have to be consenting. Obviously. But it’s a formality that needs to be kept on file in both your records. They’re might be some scrutiny, but again, it says ‘discouraged,’ not banned.”

“The BSAA just allows that?”

“Chris, the BSAA is an informal military housed across several continents and its reserves are largely volunteer. Unilateral rules can’t really span multi-cultural borders.”

He tried to listen. He really did, but Chris felt like his head was spinning. He leaned against the window, shivering as the cold from glass leeched through his long-sleeve. His mouth had gone dry, but he forced the words to come out. “You’re telling me it’s really just that easy?”

“It can be. And as a supervising director on the board over Alpha, I can even draft the paperwork myself.”

“You can?” Chris croaked, stumbling over the words and trying in vain to mask the raw hope in his voice.

“Just tell me when, Redfield.”

Chris chose wisely not to respond to that, knowing damn well he was nowhere near where he wanted them to be. He glanced through the window, spying the vague outline of Piers still at their hightop. He wasn’t watching anymore and Chris closed his eyes with a soft sigh. He refocused back on Jill, turning the conversation towards the original plan. He verified the dates a last time, nodding that he’d tell Claire. Jill was vicious when she told him not to forget. Barry had already agreed and Rebecca was now looking at train tickets. A frustrated note slipped into Chris’ voice as he promised one more time not to forget.

He called her a broken record under his breath, knowing she’d hear it anyways. A few more barbs were traded between the old partners, but Jill sounded pleased when Chris complained about being out in the cold for too long. Phone tucked, under his chin, he rubbed his hands together and blew into them. Jill seemed to relent, telling him to get back inside and get warmed up. He’d nearly hung up before she asked for one more favor. Her voice practically oozed with mirth as she knew exactly what to say to get Chris worked up.

“Don’t forget to invite Piers.”

The line clicked off before his brain caught up with her words. He looked down at the dark screen, face a deep shade of red that was not because of the cold breeze. He was wedged between shock and relief, both emotions more paralyzing than he gave them credit for. It was another lengthy moment before Chris found the strength in his legs to go back inside. Piers was hunched over the table, trailing a fork around the curve of his empty plate. The cues were propped up against the pool table, forgotten by both parties. He almost looked lost and Chris ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling self-conscious of his appearance.

He pulled at the neck of his shirt, glancing between Piers and the bathroom. He made a split-second call, bypassing going back to the table to duck into the men’s room. Thankfully it was empty as he came up to the mirror, flushed reflection making him frown. His cheeks were red enough to blame it on the cold, but he knew it meant so much more. He stared hard at himself, fingers clenched around the edge of the sink. All the emotions roiling around in his chest was making him sick. None of them offered much clarity, but he knew it was only because he couldn’t be truthful with himself. He knew exactly what his feelings were.

The largest hurdle now was whether he had the stones to admit it. Chris ran his fingers under the hot water, letting the sensation ground him. He washed his face, scrubbing away the lingering cold. Jill’s voice still lurked at the back of his mind, making it harder to collect himself. A last glance in the mirror made him nervous. Tilting his head, he wondered if he looked a little too scruffy. He hadn’t bothered with shaving since they went on leave. Was it too unkempt? Chris made a noise, pulling back from the sink. All he’d worn was a navy long-sleeve and dark jeans. It felt so plain. Looking around the empty bathroom, Chris questioned his own sanity. This had to be the most benign problem to even have.

He was filled with a frustration he didn’t even have the words for. He pushed himself to leave the bathroom, hoping his absence hadn’t been too noticeable. Piers was still at their table, leg bouncing against the middle rung of his stool. He looked annoyed, forehead pinched in a way that Chris found attractive. That small thought was the only thing he felt brave enough to face. As he got closer, something seemed off. Piers was still staring at the tabletop, but the object of his focus seemed to be what troubled him. It was a glass neither of them had ordered. Piers sat with his hands away from the drink like it was poisoned. When Chris finally got back to the table, Piers’ frown was more a grimace and the tips of his ears were a faint pink. He leaned on his stool, not shying away from the weight of Piers’ stare when it snapped towards him.

“Do I want to ask?” Chris broached first, gesturing at the fresh gin and tonic. A bead of clear liquid slid down the glass from where a wedge of lime sat on the rim.

“Someone bought it for me.” Piers jerked his head slightly towards the front bar. He still didn’t touch the drink.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Is that…a problem?”

“Not really a gin person.”

Chris immediately knew that was a lie. Piers’ uncomfortable expression was far too obvious. He risked a glance at the bar, pointedly searching the limited amount of faces. None of them really stood out until he spied a woman closer to Piers’ age at a table with her friends. She was fairly blatant as she watched for some clue that the drink would be accepted for what it was: an invitation. Chris sucked in a short breath, nodding in understanding. The sniper continued to stare at the drink, jaw working as he tried to decide what to do. The drink just sat there between them now. Chris shifted at the table’s edge, tempted to take offending glass back up to the bar, but he worried if Piers would see it as a massive overstep. The silence bordered on the unbearable as he veered his hand away from the drink and placed it gently on Piers’ shoulder. The sudden contact seemed to startle Piers.

“This isn’t life or death. You don’t have to drink it,” Chris said, waving his other hand towards the glass.

“Seems rude to just send it back.” Piers answered stiffly, something unspoken lacing his words. Chris zeroed in on that right away and it made him just a tad bolder as he let the full length of his arm rest around Piers’ shoulders.

“Well, some might say it’s rude to just buy someone a drink without at least asking.”

That got a slight smile out of Piers. Chris patted him softly on the back, reaching for the drink. He held it up, quietly asking his lieutenant to let him take care of the issue. He didn’t explain what that meant exactly, but Piers didn’t argue and looked relieved to see it gone. Chris nodded softly, turning from the table with the glass in hand as he made his way up to the bar. Neither of them had to acknowledge the unspoken promise between them when it came to Piers’ preference on romantic partners. The trust Piers had given Chris when he’d come out to him was immeasurable and he was more than happy to send back an unwanted drink on Piers’ behalf. He sidled up to the bar’s counter, setting the gin down with a polite clunk to get the bartender’s attention. The faint chatter from the table to his right downright died when the brunette realized Chris had her drink. He spared them a very faint glance, expression neutral until he slipped an easy smile onto his face when the bartender finally came over.

“Something wrong, sir?”

“Nope, nothing wrong.” Chris pushed the glass across the counter. He felt the women staring at him now and an idea wormed its way into his brain. It was petty and Chris was just childish enough to give in. “My partner back there didn’t order this.”

“Ah, well, someone else paid for it. You’re more than welcome to keep it. Free of charge.”

“We’re not interested. But thanks.”

Chris left the gin for the bartender, turning on his heel to make it seem like the issue was taken care of. He caught the brunette out of the corner of his eye. She was red in the face, looking both parts mad and confused. Maybe he’d been just a tad petty, but the relief on Piers’ face was worth it when he came back to the table. Chris smiled and shrugged, grabbing his cue to continue their forgotten game. He was still in the lead and he lazily searched for his next angle. Piers joined him after a beat, another ball sinking into a corner pocket. They played quietly for the next few minutes, occasionally trading spots until Chris finally sunk the eight-ball. He threw his fist up, a toothy grin on his face.

The sniper gave his captain a mock bow, admitting defeat gracefully. He leaned against the pool table as Chris put their cues away. A glance at the bar told him that trio of women were paying at the bar, the brunette already outside and away from the embarrassing situation she’d put herself in. He relaxed considerably, feeling just a little foolish. Maybe she’d meant no harm and there’s no way to really know how someone would take her gesture. Looking between himself and Piers and how close they stayed, he couldn’t help but still think that she was actively choosing to ignore every sign possible that she was barking up the wrong tree.

“So, what exactly did you say up there?” Piers stretched, moving to grab his coat off the third barstool at their table.

Chris shrugged his own coat on, not quite looking at Piers as he did up the buttons. “All I said was that my partner didn’t order it and wasn’t interested.”

“Partner?” He tested the word softly, not at all missing the double meaning. His sharp eyes found Chris’. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

Chris hadn’t fully considered how Piers might take it with him using that exact language. He’d just wanted to make a point. He started to feel a little ashamed now, but the worry was short-lived as Piers started laughing. He laughed almost to the point of tears. Pulling that card was about the last thing Piers expected Chris to do, but it filled him with such a joyful feeling that even his own peel of laughter became contagious. The older man did a much better job of keeping his composure, but he let Piers lean on him for support as he wiped his eyes. The contact was electrifying once more, but softer and subdued. Nothing about it was as suffocating as it had been in the stairwell. Piers kept smiling, reluctant to pull away. Chris didn’t pull back either, his smile gentle. Their fingers brushed as Piers held his coat between them, the small touch making his eyes flicker downwards.

The butterflies in his stomach grew tenfold and Piers clutched his coat a bit tighter. When his eyes came back up, Chris flushed and took a slight step back. The moment was gone, but the energy remained. Piers slipped his coat on, feeling warm and a tad lightheaded from the way his heart kicked up. Chris spied Piers’ scarf still on the table and he gingerly picked it up. He looked at his lieutenant, feeling the weight of the fabric in his palms until he acted on impulse. He lifted it, draping the scarf over Piers’ head and back around his neck. He chuckled when Piers jumped in surprise.

“Wouldn’t want you to forget this,” Chris murmured, looping it one more time around.

Piers turned slightly, a hand coming up to clutch at the dark blue scarf. He knew he was blushing and he looked away. “Thanks.”

Chris gestured towards the door, putting a tip down onto the table as he walked Piers out of the pool hall. He felt bold, his hand easily slotting into the small of Piers’ back as he opened the door for him back out into the crisp winter afternoon. They fell into step with one another easily, not quite looking at each other as the unspoken thing bloomed right between them. Their breaths plumed upwards as they stood together on the sidewalk. Piers shivered, hands in his pockets as the warmth of Chris’ hand disappeared. His stomach was doing flips and he felt like an awkward teenager, sneaking glances at his captain who seemed to be doing the same. Chris quietly asked if he was ready to head home.

The singular word made Piers feel tingly and warm inside and he nodded, taking a few steps in the direction of the truck. His hands squeezed around nothing in his pockets and Piers looked down at Chris’ free hand between them as they walked. He weighed the very real risk he was about to take, but Piers was tired of being scared. He dropped his own hand free of his pocket, trying to make it seem natural as he got closer to Chris. He held his breath as the edge of his fingers brushed against Chris’.

He looked up, hazel eyes studying the profile of his captain who seemed none-the-wiser to the point it was worrying. Another glance down and he purposefully trailed a seeking finger against the edge of Chris’ hand. He glanced up again and felt his confidence wane when Chris had his attention focused on the phone in left hand. He was typing something Piers wasn’t sure of and his next attempt seemed to only produce the same results. He scowled, glancing away as his hand hung empty at his side. His missed the way brown eyes looked down between them.

“Before I forget, Jill says you’re invited to the reunion,” Chris said, focusing back on his phone. “I’m letting Claire know right now.”

“I’m invited?” Piers repeated, sounding disbelieving. He pursed his lips, eyes firmly fixed on the sidewalk. “I’m not even from Raccoon. Won’t it be weird if I’m there?”

“Of course it won’t be. Plus, you probably know everyone who’s going to be there. It’s not exactly a large crowd.”

“I guess if you’re sure…”

Chris could tell Piers wasn’t convinced, but he knew it was more than that. He sighed softly, looking down between them once more. Piers still hadn’t put his hand away. The walk back to the truck wasn’t a long one, but they still had to round the corner to get there. Putting his phone back into his pocket, Chris had a choice before him. He wasn’t going to play dumb like he had so many other times to just save face. He couldn’t bring himself to even consider how badly that could hurt the younger man next to him. Quietly and with purpose, he brushed his hand against Piers’. He kept his gaze straightforward, even offering Piers a nonchalant tune that he started to hum. He waited for a few more seconds until he did it again, extending his last two fingers out far enough until he felt a tentative grasp.

Chris tilted his head, lips tugging upwards as they hooked their fingers together clumsily.

Chapter Text

Was this really happening?

Piers felt hot and cold all at once, small goosebumps racing up his arms. The contact was minimal, yet it felt like the whole world was coming into sharp clarity. He felt it hard to breathe like the entire moment would shatter if he put too much focus on it. It was only their pinkie and ring fingers curled around one another; a handhold that felt straight out of high school. His cheeks were flushed a maddening red the longer they walked and Piers finally risked a glance back down. Chris’ other fingers were open and inviting and the sniper hesitated, feeling a nagging fear taking his confidence. He wasn’t sure what counted as moving too fast or if Chris was even willing to keep going.

He studied his captain’s profile, eyes narrow in thought. He looked away just as quick when the browns of Chris’ eyes wandered his way like he knew he was being watched. Piers couldn’t hide his sudden turmoil, the idea of arriving back in the parking lot coming up too fast. His voice caught in his throat, Piers almost pulled away when Chris’ touch surrounded the rest of his hand. Their fingers slotted together almost perfectly, pressed palm-to-palm. It made his breath hitch when Chris’ thumb rubbed along the side of his hand almost reassuringly. They kept walking, anchored together in what was left of their day. The black Chevy came into view not long after and Piers found himself tugged along until they came to the rear bumper.

Chris seemed reluctant to get in, clouds of warm air billowing upwards with a heavy sigh. His lazy grin hadn’t fully disappeared as he leaned halfheartedly against the tailgate. Instead it softened as he turned towards Piers, the distance between them far more intimate than it had been as their hands kept them close. Piers stilled looked the part of a deer in headlights, not quite believing that Chris could so openly breach the gap that had always been between them. It was confusing and exciting and it made Piers just a little sick to his stomach with anxiety. He mirrored his captain, half-sitting on the bumper with his free arm hooked over the truck. The look on his face must have spoken a thousand words as Chris just huffed a laugh.

“Come back down to Earth, Nivans.” He murmured, squeezing the other’s hand. “You’re letting yourself get lost in your own head.

Piers made an audible click of his tongue against teeth, brow pinched. “I am not. This is just-”

“Don’t overthink it.”

“But…I…what exactly am I supposed to think?

Chris’ smile slipped for a small fraction as he looked down at their hands. Piers felt his stomach twist at the idea that he’d let go. The older man took his time finding the words he wanted, still rubbing circles across Piers’ knuckle. There didn’t seem to be any kind of definitive way to start this conversation. The wind picked up around them, flurrying swirls of snow across the blacktop. Piers shivered, half his face burrowing down into the thick fabric of his scarf. It made Chris feel guilty as he stalled while looking down at their laced fingers. He shifted against the truck, taking his own seat on the bumper.

“I don’t know.” Chris looked away, resolve wavering now in the face of their unspoken feelings.

“You don’t know?" Piers sounded incredulous. His other hand flew up to his forehead with a soft smack, an angry hiss of the word unbelievable flittering down between them.

Chris’ own skin flushed a brilliant red up the thick of his neck, his jaw flexing with some annoyance. “I’m not saying I didn’t want this.”

“Then what are you saying, Chris? Because I am really fucking confused right now!”

The half-shout from Piers made Chris shoot up off the bumper, their hands slipping apart before Chris caught himself. He rounded on his sniper, crowding him against the tailgate with a growl as he fought with his own damn brain to make the words come out straight. His gaze was heated as he took in the loss that shined in Piers’ eyes. This was the exact opposite of how Chris wanted this to go. He worked his jaw over and over again, the muscle clicking loud enough for Piers to hear it. Unfortunately for him, Piers spoke up first.

“I don’t like being played with, Captain.” His voice was soft; strained. His eyes didn’t quite meet Chris’.

“I wouldn’t ever do that to you,” Chris replied almost defensively. He felt dizzy as they teetered over a precipice. His tentative grasp curled around Piers’ wrist and his shoulders sagged with relief when the touch wasn’t rejected. “This is all new territory for me too. I promise.”

Piers still didn’t look at him and the second that ticked by had him worried. When he finally saw their hazel color, he took a steadying breath. Piers looked conflicted, eyes darting everywhere across Chris’ face for the truth. He had practically everything he wanted suddenly being handed to him on a silver platter and Piers felt selfish for even indulging it. A million different questions burned the tip of his tongue and he swallowed them all as he gently worked his wrist out of Chris’ grasp. He slowly opened his hand back up, their palms ghosting one another over the cold metal of the tailgate. The weight of his captain’s hands settled back into his and Piers finally met his eyes.

“Tell me first: what exactly was going through your head at the ice rink?”

Chris’ eyes widened noticeably and Piers knew this seemed like a rather low blow. But he pushed. He needed to know if there was some grain to Chris’ halfcocked confession. His captain blanched, backing up for a moment where only Piers’ hand kept him from escaping. The red flush crawled up from his neck to his ears and cheeks. His own hand came up to rub at his chin, a ragged noise escaping him. He knew exactly what it meant when he’d been staring at Piers while they skated and it was clear that Piers wanted confirmation before anything else could be entertained between them.

“I didn’t invite you under some kind of…‘false pretenses,’ if that’s what you think.” Chris suddenly felt dirty, hating how clinical that sounded.

Piers frowned. “Didn’t exactly cross my mind like that, but now I’m just a little offended.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re kinda putting me on the spot here!”

They both looked exasperated with one another, hating the uneven grounded they were treading. They searched one another, looking for clarity until Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and moved back to sit with Piers.

“I was staring. I’ll admit to that. And it might have been…more than casual.”

“More than casual could mean a million things, Chris.”

“What? It means exactly how it sounds. More. Than. Casual.” His free hand chopped the air with every word, tone becoming more and more strained.

“That still doesn’t make any more sense than the first time you said it!” Piers nearly snarled, eyes glancing dangerously at Chris’ exposed neck. He was on the verge of strangling him. “Just be clear with me, damn it!”

“Jesus Christ, Piers, it’s not exactly appropriate for me to admit I was staring at my lieutenant’s ass, okay?!”

The words slipped out so easily when said with anger. The flash of red he felt overtaking his brain seemed to expose all the dirty secrets he had desperately tried to keep buried. Chris tore his hand out of Piers, face pressed down into both his palms over his knees. He blew hot air into his fingers, his voice rattling out into the cold with steam. This was beginning to be too much. He felt the itch to run, the shape of the truck keys whispering a poisonous lie that he could just leave and pretend none of this was real. None of the words were right. The moment wasn’t right. He pulled back only far enough to look at his hands in hate, angry that he’d been so impulsive. The ringing in his ears was so loud that he completely missed the sound of his own name. It wasn’t until searching hands forced their way under his jaw.

“Chris, come on. Look at me.”

Piers slowly came into focus, his mouthed pressed into a firm line. Brow pinched with worry, he pushed the other man to sit up as his hands slid down to the bulk of Chris’ chest. The touch held Chris there against the tailgate, eyes wide and lost as he looked down at Piers. He struggled under the weight of that gaze, fingers curling around the fabric of Chris’ coat before they fell back into his lap. This seemed to be more than either one of them had expected. He slid a bit closer on the bumper, their thighs settling together as he quietly said Chris’ name again. Piers reached out, hand hanging in the air for a moment until he gently placed it over Chris’.

“I’m not angry. And I’m not weirded out. So, stop beating yourself up.”

It was Chris’ turn to be confused for once. He sighed roughly and looked at the ground between his boots. “You have every right to be. The way I’ve been acting…even I fully don’t understand it.”

“Chris, I’m not exactly an innocent party in this either. Not when…” Piers cocked his head to the side, a deeper frown working its way onto his face. It felt like something was caught in his throat when he tried to swallow. “Maybe because I’ve always wanted you to look at me like that.”

His cheeks flushed an embarrassed red and he chewed on his lip in silence. He felt the weight of Chris’ gaze on him and he made himself remain seated. His own skin crawled at how awkward everything seemed to become. Had it really been that much simpler when it was just silence and holding hands? Piers dwelled on the twister of things he felt sitting next to Chris Redfield in that very empty parking lot. He shivered hard leaning against the icy pick-up, but none of this felt like something they could just walk away from. The weight of an arm suddenly found itself around his shoulders and he welcomed the warmth with a sigh. He glanced at Chris, thankful that despite everything, they could still be pillars for one another. He hunkered down into his scarf as another gust of air swirled around them.

“You’re cold.” Chris said rather bluntly, as if they hadn’t just been coming off the coattails of a heavy conversation.

“No shit. We’ve been out here for fifteen minutes and it’s in the thirties.” Piers couldn’t quite stop the ragged laugh from bubbling over, running a hand through his hair. Chris’ hand squeezed his and he fought down a new shred of hope at the way his captain looked at him.

“Why don’t we take this back to the apartment? We can catch our breath. Does that sound okay?”

Piers hated leaving things unfinished, but the offer was too tempting to pass up. He slid off the bumper at Chris’ push, the backs of his thighs numb through his jeans. He rubbed his hands together, shifting from foot to foot to get some feeling back into his body. Chris did the same, shaking off fresh flakes of snow from his coat. He reached out on instinct, brushing the snow off Piers’ shoulders. The gesture was small, but brought the ghost of a smile back to the sniper’s face. Neither of them wanted to be the first to move away and Chris didn’t want to risk losing that smile again. He settled his hands around Piers’ upper arms, squeezing them.

With a soft nod towards the truck and the promise of warmth, both men climbed into the truck. It rumbled to life, vents kicking on full blast as Chris twisted a knob. Piers sunk down into the leather of the seat, legs stretched out so his boots were tucked just under the lower vents. The sensation lulled him into an exhausted silence, eyes falling shut with his head resting on the back of the seat. He waited for the telltale jerk of the truck when it was thrown into gear, but it stayed idled in the parking lot. After a few more seconds, Piers cracked an eye open to see Chris just sitting there with his hands loosely holding the bottom of the wheel.

“You okay?” He spoke up, opening both eyes and turning his head. Chris nodded slightly like he was gathering himself. When he looked back, it was with a strength that made Piers feel a little less scared to hope.

“We’ll figure this out, alright? Just like we always do.”

And maybe they would.

Chapter Text

It felt like a lifetime passed between them as the truck took both men back to the apartment. Despite Chris’ promised confidence, it wasn’t going to be an easy first step into the vulnerable territory they’d finally come to. Piers watched the buildings slip by, the outside world a blur against his breath fogging the window. His fingers mindlessly picked at the cracked leather seat, little flakes scattering into the floorboard around his boots. He kept one hand propped under his chin against the door. His missed the warmth of Chris’ fingers around his, but the other man had them firmly wrapped around the steering wheel. He was horrible at hiding how nervous he was still. It was something that made Chris human and Piers found it oddly comforting. He sucked in a shallow breath when they finally did pull into the private parking area beside Chris’ building.

The apartment was dark, but still warm as the muffled sound of keys turning in the lock filled the quiet living room. A thin tread of light broke over the carpet as Chris got the door open, his hand blindly searching the wall until he found the switch. He flicked it on, shrugging off his coat and hanging it in its proper place against the wall. Piers followed in after, chin still tucked down into the fabric of his scarf. He shivered and felt reluctant to take his coat off, not quite ready for the conversation waiting between them. He eased the buttons open when Chris glanced his way, a shier flush of red suddenly coloring his face. He left his scarf on, his coat joining Chris’ on the wall. They seemed to dance around one another awkwardly as they stood in the living room. Chris’ hands fidgeted at his sides, clasping around nothing until he moved back and said he was going to the kitchen. He offered his sniper a very faint smile and Piers was stuck between relief and disappointment.

He took the chance to make his own escape, vaguely saying he was going to find his backpack. Piers bent down at the edge of the couch expecting to find his pack, but the bag was gone. He made a soft noise, following the carpet with his eyes at Chris’ open bedroom door. He padded into the quiet room until he finally found the black bag hiding against the laundry hamper in the bathroom. It was unzipped and he glanced inside, sighing as he realized that the situation of him not having enough clothes for the rest of his stay was going to be a problem sooner rather than later. He had maybe a couple shirts left and another pair of pants. He’d anticipated a few days at Chris’. Not an entire three weeks.

Piers emerged from the bedroom with the half-empty bag in his grasp when he came to a halt. Chris was seated on the edge of the couch, two steaming mugs of coffee perched on the low table by his legs. His fingers were threaded together in a tense grasp over his knees and he looked lost in thought. Piers felt the nervous tingle in his gut quiet down as he took in the kind offering of a hot drink for him. He cleared his throat, catching Chris off guard with a jump in his seat. His gaze towards the sniper softened considerably, a smile sliding onto his face as he motioned to the empty spot on the couch. Piers settled onto the cushion with a pleased hum around the first sip of his coffee.

“I tried to make it how you like it,” Chris admitted with a slight laugh. “Couldn’t remember exactly how much cream you use.”

“It’s perfect, actually. I appreciate it.”

“Find your backpack?”

“Yeah. Gonna need to do laundry soon and definitely realizing how unprepared I was for this trip.”

“Why don’t you just borrow some of my stuff?”

“You’re kidding right?”

“Um, no?” Chris looked confused, leaning back with his own coffee in hand. “I’ve got plenty of clothes. There’s bound to be something you can wear.”

“In case you’ve never noticed, we’re like two shirt sizes different from one another. I’m not…jacked like you are.” Piers felt heat creeping up his neck again and he pointedly kept his face turned away from Chris.

"There can’t be that big of a difference.”

“I’m not saying I’d drown in your shirt, but everything would be baggy. I prefer a tighter fit.”

“Have you always been this picky?”

Piers could hear the scoff in his captain’s words, but there was a teasing lilt to them as they both sipped their coffee in easy silence. He set the cup down when the drink was half gone, folding the sleeves of his green Henley up to the elbow. Chris didn’t seem to be in a rush to push, enjoying his own drink as the very soft rumble of the heat in the vents kept them company. He shifted slightly on the couch, his mind watching where his legs sat next to Piers’. He felt painfully aware of every inch of himself, the length of his torso awkwardly jammed into the corner of the couch. Chris felt it was best to not crowd Piers, but everything about the way he sat felt wrong. He pulled lightly at the collar of his shirt, hoping to hide the tension behind a long drink of coffee.

Chris was determined to give the other man as much time as he needed, but the growing need to address it was becoming an unbearable itch. He shifted again, trying to make himself comfortable without drawing too much attention to himself. His weight still shifted the cushions and Chris wished he had stayed standing. The itch of waiting slowly morphed into a desperate need to pace. He sighed a little too loudly, moving to sit up. He dug his fingers into the arm of the sofa, taking a last gulp of his drink as the caffeine became a very bad choice for his jumpy nerves. The bottom of his mug made a sharp clunk on top of the coffee table and he winced visibly when Piers glanced his way.

“I know what you’re doing,” Piers finally said. He didn’t fully turn to look at Chris, dragging the edge of his finger around the rim of his cup. His brow furrowed slightly. “You don’t need to treat me with kid gloves.”

“I’m not, I swear,” Chris muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m just trying to figure out where to start.”

The words hung between them in the air. Piers clenched his jaw, a worried note in his voice.

“Are you afraid of things changing?”

“Changing? Like changing between us or things in general?”

“Those kind of go hand-in-hand, Captain. Especially if we go down this road.”

Chris sat forward slowly. Piers had abandoned his drink, hands clasped together. His knee bounced softly against the couch and he still didn’t look Chris’ way. He could count on his hand alone a number of reasons of why things could end up very messy. The one thing that nagged at him the most was how it could affect how they operate in the field. Piers himself didn’t have much knowledge on BSAA protocol. He never even thought he’d ever be having this conversation with Chris. The anxious bouncing of his leg got worse as he wondered if their age difference would be the biggest deterrent to between them. Piers hardly batted an eye at it. He knew exactly what he got when it came to Chris Redfield and he didn’t expect things to change. His eyes darted Chris’ way and it made the flutter in his stomach so much worse. He chewed on his lower lip until he finally convinced himself to at least face Chris. Piers turned on the sofa, one leg resting across the cushions between them.

“I’m worried what it could do the team. What it could do to us.” Piers admitted all of this in a rush, grasping onto Chris’ watchful gaze. “I…want this, but I’m afraid of what it could possibly cost both of us in the long run. What if they reassign me or ask you to step down? I couldn’t ask you to do that. I-”

“Woah, woah, Piers. Slow down.” Chris interrupted, his arduous work of creating space between them undone as he took Piers’ hand in his. He gave it a very reassuring squeeze. “Nothing about this will affect the team. I’ll still be captain of Alpha and you can still be my lieutenant.”

“But wouldn’t that compromise chain-of-command?"

“Piers, I already asked! There are no regulations against this in the handbook.”

“You…asked?"

Piers looked stunned, hazel eyes widening as he stared at Chris. A soft color came to the captain’s face as he ducked his head slightly, realizing what he’d said. He opened his hand gently, letting their fingers slot together so easily. The feeling of their palms together still made his heart skip a beat. It still surprised him at how easily this form of touch came to them. It felt so natural to hold Piers’ hand in his like there was no question that it belonged there. Chris wasn’t entirely sure if he was getting too far ahead of himself, but he knew he wanted it. He gave a very light nod towards Piers’ question, admitting that it got brought up when he was talking to Jill outside the pool hall. A curious glimmer sparked in Piers’ eyes and Chris groaned internally that he was going to get grilled about that.

“How much have you been talking to her about this?” He pressed in a quiet voice, distracted by the way Chris ran a thumb over his.

“Honestly, not a lot. Now that I look back on it, feels like she was a little too prepared for me asking. Fuck. Seems like everyone saw it before I did. What the hell?”

“That probably goes for both of us. I don’t think you ever noticed how much shit Alfonso kept giving me before we deployed to Edonia and I think I was just in denial.”

“Alfonso was doing what now? What’s he been saying?” A tense edge crept into Chris’ voice, his shoulders squaring until Piers shook his head with an eye roll.

“It wasn’t like that. Relax. Carl just kept calling me ‘Redfield Jr.’ after our first mission briefing. We got into an argument in the locker room maybe a week after that. We’d been running drills all day, remember? I think he caught me looking your way when you were correcting Andy and Ben on formation.”

A slight grin split Chris’ face and Piers sighed. Leaning forward slightly, he cocked an eyebrow up curiously. “Seems I’m not the only one who has a staring problem.”

“Shut up. It wasn’t like that.” Piers weakly tried to defend himself, but Chris’ grin only grew. He scowled at his captain. “Okay maybe it was like that a little and Carl is a fucking busybody who noticed. That was the argument you broke up. I told him to mind his own business and he told me to stop making ‘goo-goo eyes’ if I was going to pussyfoot around it."

“I’m pretty sure I had you both running laps around the track after that one. You looked like you were about to kill him.”

“I thought about it. But I think I was madder that he was right. I kept telling myself that…the way I felt couldn’t have been more than admiration or respect. Alfonso called me on my bullshit.”

Piers rubbed the side of his neck, feeling restless as the words for his feelings kept tangling. He swept a hand through his hair with a stressful sigh. Nothing about this was going to be easy. He looked down at their interlaced fingers, slowly taking in the details. Chris’ hand was dotted with small scars against the calloused skin. There seemed to be a lifetime of memories wrapped up in them and Piers found himself wanting to know every story. He traced over a nick on the very side of his captain’s hand that seemed to run deeper than the rest. It was jagged and well-healed. He glanced upwards, catching Chris’ eye. The older man looked perplexed, but didn’t mind the light touch. Memories of his first encounters with the hell hounds of Spencer Mansion swam forward as Piers ran a finger over the scar.

“Are you worried about how the rest of the squad will react?” Chris ventured, hoping to pull Piers back to the here and now.

“Not really,” he shrugged, letting Chris’ hand go with a sigh.

“Then what’s holding you back?”

Piers looked up sharply, but stopped when he saw the openness in Chris’ expression. He was encouraging him to figure it out and Piers couldn’t quite describe the way it made his chest feel so tight. His hands gripped the edge of his jeans. If he was finally going to confess, then he needed to be completely honest with himself. No more of watching from afar and forcing himself to think that he was better off pining while he could still be friends with Chris Redfield.

“I like you,” He started, heat pooling in his face. Something in his voice cracked slightly under the overwhelming relief that came with the confession. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”

The butterflies in his stomach had gotten so much worse as he sat waiting. The sickening fear that he carried seemed to melt off his shoulders. His own smile slowly worked its way onto his face while he spoke. When he looked back up, Chris’ face seemed to be just as red as his was. It made a nervous chuckle bubble up between them and Piers enjoyed the sound of it. Chris’ hand settled around his across his leg, the grip strong. The gap between them felt charged again like it had whenever Chris got close to Piers. It took his breath as it lingered.

“I admire you a lot, Piers,” Chris murmured. He smiled, eyes bright. “And I think I like you too.”

Chapter Text

Piers could have sworn he felt his heart skip a beat. The rhythm of it seemed loud between his ears, Chris’ words rushing through them. The apple of his throat bobbed slightly as he tried to create a coherent reply. Nothing wanted to work as he swallowed, a deep flush creeping down his neck as Chris let out a very soft laugh. Piers wasn’t normally the type to be speechless, but that was just the effect his captain had on him. Fingers threaded gently through his across his lap. He suddenly felt too warm the longer Chris stared. Every point of contact he had with the other man crackled with energy to make him dizzy. It was tantalizing and scary to think how easily Chris’ touch could do that to him. Piers made a very dazed hmming sound from the back of his throat when Chris quietly asked if he was okay.

Piers could only manage a weak shrug, almost too giddy to care if he was acting like a fool. He slowly realized he was smiling by the soft ache in his cheeks. The soreness was a welcome distraction, his free hand shifting nervously to rub the back of his neck. He finally found his voice, clearing the knot from his throat. It came out as a rough laugh, head tilted to the side. Chris had an elbow propped up against back of the couch, a hand cupping his jaw. He looked like he was holding back laughter, one fingertip clenched firmly between his teeth. He studied Piers in the moment, appreciating the bashful smile. His staring earned him a deeper flush of color across his lieutenant’s face.

He wasn’t afraid to let his eyes roam this time knowing the attention was welcome and wanted. They strayed over the soft swell of Piers’ lips, pausing long enough that it made Piers bite his lower lip in response. The intentions in Chris’ gaze stayed unspoken and teasing. It made a very new heat pool in Piers’ stomach. He slid a finger free from Chris’ grasp, exploring the exposed wrist beneath his sleeve. He felt like he was going to bruise his own lip as long as Chris kept staring. His grin became more subdued, a nervousness setting in that he couldn’t quite shake. He licked his lips subconsciously, releasing a pent up breath. Gentleness remained in Chris’ gaze, but the browns of his eyes looked dark and focused.

He made a gruff noise, leaning into the gap between them. Chris settled his arm across the back of the couch, fingertips so easily within reach of Piers’ cheek. It was borderline maddening when Chris whispered his name. Piers’ fingers continued to wander, their touch feather-light against the inside of his captain’s wrist. Chris’ brow furrowed, distracted enough to break the magnetic lock his eyes had on the younger man. Their hands came apart slowly as Piers’ touch drifted higher, ghosting along the length of a muscular forearm. They wandered over Chris’ thick bicep, feeling it flex just slightly against his hand. The edge of his fingers hesitated at the crest of the man’s shoulder, hazel eyes flickering Chris’ way. The crease in his captain’s brow remained, but there was no protest to the exploration. His hand moved almost painstakingly slow as the material of Chris’ shirt came to an end at his throat. Chris swallowed and Piers’ took in a breath, ignoring the tremble starting in his hand. Staring at his captain now, a realization crawled its way into his thoughts.

He felt completely out of his depth.

His fingernails just barely grazed Chris’ neck and he got a shiver in reply. He continued to stare, feeling hot and cold at the same time. The weight of his wrist settled across Chris’ shoulder, draped in just the right position for his fingers to quietly run through the edges of soft hair. Chris’ eyes shut for a brief moment, head tilting back into the pleasant touch. A soft sound escaped his lips, the lines of his forehead relaxing. Piers bit his lip once more, not quite ready for Chris to so easily express this side of himself. He didn’t hesitate to be vulnerable with the younger man and it made Piers dizzy.

He’d be embarrassed to admit that he jumped slightly when a calloused palm suddenly cupped his cheek. His lips parted in a small gasp, the sound of it muted by the hammering of his heart. Their eyes met briefly and Piers felt something inside of himself melt. He felt like he couldn’t catch his breath with the way Chris stared at him. It was intense and he quivered under the weight of it. Gone was the way he once understood how to read Chris’ gaze on and off the field. Everything his eyes now said was entirely new. They still shined with a familiar patience that he tried to keep himself tethered to. The tip of Chris’ thumb brushed his bottom lip, pulling him slightly out of his spiral.

The gap between them seemed smaller now. The weight of a hand pressed in on his thigh dragged his eyes downward. The grasp was weight-bearing as Chris leaned forward still, stopping just short of his lieutenant. The gesture spoke plainly: it would be up to Piers if he wanted to continue. He heard his name murmured once more. It felt like both a question and a statement to the sniper’s ears. It rattled within the hollows of his racing thoughts and Piers’ mouth went dry. The tremble in his hands grew more prominent. All the tension inside him coiled tight.

Piers froze.

Seconds ticked by as he stayed still, the searching heat of Chris’ gaze waning with another furrow. The hand along his cheek let go, moving to cradle his jaw. He didn’t notice when his own fingers had gone from playing with Chris’ hair to clenching the back of the man’s shirt collar. He made a small wince as his fingers cramped from holding on too tight. Piers let go, jerking back slightly from Chris’ hold along his chin. The tremble along his slim frame was obvious up close and only the grounding touch of Chris’ hand taking him by the wrist kept Piers from bolting. He could barely meet his captain’s gaze, ashamed at how quickly he buckled under the pressure.

“Tell me what’s going through your head right now,” Chris whispered, gently running his fingers along Piers’ jaw once more. It pulled a strained noise from the sniper and he closed his eyes.

Despite everything, he leaned into Chris’ tender touch. He didn’t quite feel like he deserved it just then, but he wasn’t even sure where to start explaining the thoughts in his head. How did he even admit that he found Chris’ openness to changing their relationship so quickly as intimidating? The feeling of a thumb stroking his chin made him finally pry his eyes back open. The space between was intimately small and his gaze strayed to the thin line of Chris’ mouth pressed together in concern. The heat he once felt stayed as embers in the pit of his stomach. Piers frowned and shook his head slowly.

“Everything at once,” Piers finally mustered, frustration boiling over. His cheeks burned and he withered the longer Chris stared. “It was fine. It was supposed to be fine.”

“What changed?”

“Nothing changed! I wanted this…I’ve wanted to tell you how I’ve felt for more than a year now.”

“Does something about that scare you now?”

“It shouldn’t…” Piers hated the uncertainty he heard in his own voice.

He cast a searching gaze over Chris’ face, fearing that he’d only find disappointment at his words. He found a much more understanding smile directed his way instead. It made his heart flutter softly.

“It’s okay to be scared, Piers.” Chris still held him by the chin, a very gentle tug pulling the sniper closer. “I think I’d be more worried if I was the only one.”

“You’re scared too?”

“Of course I am. It’s normal.”

“It’s normal to get cold feet after you admit you like someone?” Piers didn’t sound convinced.

“Well…probably.”

“You’re not helping.”

Chris snorted a slight laugh, the warmth of it tickling Piers’ face. The tremble in his hands remained, but he felt calmer with Chris’ words. He let his eyes fall shut, letting himself basking in the simple touch along his cheek and jaw. He followed its pull, letting out a quiet sigh. Their foreheads pressed together after a moment and Piers stayed there. The hand along his cheek moved to grip the back of his head, giving him an opportunity to finally breathe. The racing in his mind came closer to a rest the longer both men remained there. He found Chris’ other hand between them, lacing their fingers back together. He inhaled, taking in the faint scent of mint and pine that came off Chris’ shirt. He found it grounding.

When Chris pulled back, he quietly asked if Piers was feeling better. The same gentle touch returned to cup his cheek and Piers could only nod. He exhaled slowly, trying to still the last of the trembling that clung to him. It was okay to be scared. He repeated that internally for the next minute, focusing only on Chris’ touch. The weight across the cushions shifted as Chris made himself more comfortable. He watched over his lieutenant with a careful eye, relief sinking in the longer they stayed together. He wasn’t surprised by Piers freaking out. He remembered being in the same place as him once. Putting your heart out on the line for someone else always made Chris feel too vulnerable; too open for someone to take advantage.

Life gave him a little more experience to lean on. He figured that was at least half the reason he could keep his own panic at bay. Hazel eyes slowly opened and looked back up at him. They always gave him pause. Chris found them hard to resist whenever Piers turned his way. It often became a reason why he preferred the sniper standing next to him during drills. The tips of Piers ears remained red while the color in his face faded for the moment. Chris remained still, letting Piers decide where he wanted take things.

“I feel like an idiot,” Piers mumbled, pulling back to sit up. “Sorry…”

“Don’t apologize. I mean it.”

“But-”

“But nothing. We can move as fast…” Chris paused, lifting Piers hand up between them. He took a chance. He pressed a tender kiss to Piers’ knuckles. When he glanced back at the younger man, Piers had gone a brilliant shade of red. “…or as slow as we want to go.”

“Chris…” He choked on the man’s name.

Chris just squeezed his hand in response. To him, the gesture would be their promise. Piers chewed on his lip, flustered beyond measure. He released a breath he held in, collapsing into the back of the couch cushions. He still felt jumpy. Despite it all, he could feel a smile coming back to his face slowly. The red flush of his cheeks stayed and Chris reached forward without warning, ruffling the sniper’s hair. Piers could barely form a scowl, batting Chris’ hand away a second too late. He bent backwards to escape another attempt at ruining his hair. A soft peel of laughter was lost amongst the pillows as Chris chased him.

He found his back pressed into the length of the couch, fingers pulling a pillow free to guard his face. Piers couldn’t contain his grin, wide and full of teeth. When Chris got close, he took a sharp swing with the pillow in his hands. The older man almost lost his balance when the fabric of the pillow hit him square in the face. It fell back onto Piers’ chest, bouncing to the floor with a soft thud on the carpet. Chris blinked in a slow daze, feeling off kilter as he found Piers below him suddenly on the couch. He had himself braced along the back of the cushions with one hand while the other rested just shy of Piers’ head.

His broad shoulders cast a tangible shadow across Piers from the central light overhead. Nimble fingers came up slowly along his torso, curling the fabric of his shirt amongst them. Chris sucked in a breath as Piers’ chest rose and fell quick. A single moment passed between them before Piers was yanking Chris downwards. Their lips came together in a clumsy crash, fueled by nerves and earnestness. Fingers held on tightly to Chris’ shirt, balled up messily to keep the other man close. A year’s worth of tension melted through them, Chris’ hand snaking under Piers’ head to deepen the kiss.

Chris shifted, bodily guiding the younger man under him until he had one knee propped up under himself. A hushed moan slipped through the kiss, Piers’ legs parted around Chris’ knee. Another softer noise was lost between them as he tilted his head to the side in Chris’ grasp. He breathed in the man’s scent of pine and mint, finding it intoxicating. His heart raced between them, excited and pleased. It left him breathless, chasing after every ounce of Chris Redfield surrounding him. Both men fell apart as they came back up for air, panting softly. Piers’ pupils were blown, eyes locked on the man above him. He licked his lips, tasting the fading flavors of bitter coffee.

Chris was slower to come around, gaze hooded and far away. His mind worked through the rush of the kiss, thoughts electrified as he finally met Piers’ gaze. A half-cocked grin worked its way onto his face as he bent down and pressed a slower kiss against his lieutenant’s lips. Piers sighed into the kiss, welcoming the reprieve it brought to the racing in his chest. He curled his arms over Chris’ shoulders, fingers trailing through the dark hair once more. The heat between them became a comfortable flame that Piers felt safe to bask in. It became easy to set his worries aside when they parted once more, the bridges of their noses brushing together.

Piers was drawn in by the soft whisper of his name against his lips from the man above him. The hand at his neck circled back around and cupped his cheek, guiding his eyes towards Chris. The stubble of Chris’ beard tickled his face as they stayed close together on the couch, catching their breath. Piers shut his eyes; face sinking into the crook of Chris’ neck for a moment. His heart fluttered softly, cheeks flushed and every sensation seemingly amplified. He pulled back to look at Chris once more, comforted by the tender gazed directed towards him. He welcomed the next kiss, feeling much more at home in Chris’ arms than he ever thought possible.

Chapter Text

Piers found himself alone in Chris’ laundry room, a smile still on his face. His bag sat up against the washer, open and empty as he loaded his dirty clothes into the machine. The faint sound of the TV just barely drifted in from the open door. He closed the lid with a clang, starting it up. He didn’t immediately leave, making a soft sigh as he leaned against the washer. He felt tingly from head to toe; face still flushed a warm red. He’d caught a look at himself in the bathroom mirror on the way in to wash clothes. They’d gotten just a little carried away. His neck was tender to the touch, dotted with several red marks. Chris had yanked his scarf off mid-kiss. The sniper shook his head slightly, his grin only getting bigger. He grabbed his bag, pushing off the washer to leave.

The blinds of the window beside the dining table were open, allowing some natural light to filter in. Some movie played on TV, but Chris wasn’t in the living room. Piers could hear him in the kitchen, the faucet running over what few dishes there were to clean. He held his backpack a little tighter, butterflies quietly returning as he stayed in the bedroom doorway. He bit his lip, fighting back the smile that continued to paint his face. Chris’ back was facing him, but the older man must have felt Piers’ eyes on him as he turned his way. Chris’ expression filled with an easy warmth held only for Piers. It made the sniper feel weak in the knee as he stood there.

He broke from Chris’ gaze with a glance away, failing to hide while the color in his cheeks got worse. He sighed inwardly, suddenly dreading the idea of their shore leave ending. He managed to get his feet to carry him towards the couch, but the feeling of being watched didn’t go away. He counted to three before he looked back to catch Chris still staring. The captain’s fond smile became a shade sheepish, turning back to the sink a little too quick. The sound of a mug breaking from the kitchen made Piers wince as a few colorful swears followed right after. He watched Chris fumble with the mess in the sink, the butterflies getting worse. He let out an audible sigh, coming to a foregone conclusion: he was doomed.

As soon as Alpha found out, he’d never hear the end of it. Piers hoped for a little satisfaction of being able to rub it in Alfonso’s face that he’d finally manned up and spoke to Chris, but he knew that would last for all of five seconds. He dropped his bag at the end of the couch, rubbing his face with both hands. He lingered in the living room, feeling a little on edge about facing the squad. He wasn’t exactly “out” to many people. If anyone on Alpha had suspicions, none of them ever said anything. No one seemed to know, except Alfonso, who wisely kept the teasing to a minimum when he did catch Piers making puppy eyes at the captain.

 He shook his head, turning his growing frustration into something more productive as he searched for his scarf. Piers had only brought a few scarves with him, so he wasn’t keen on losing this one. His eyes scanned the floor for the dark blue fabric, but he came up empty-handed. Brow furrowed, he lifted the pillows on the couch with no results. He finally spied it on a hook by his coat on the wall. Piers grabbed it off the hook, pulling it on by instinct until he found he found himself hesitating on the second loop around. The marks littering his throat were an eyesore.

He knew the scarf would cover them the most, but his gaze still drifted back towards the kitchen where the sound of water had shut off finally. Would Chris notice? He clutched the scarf until he finally looped it over his head a last time. Piers always felt more comfortable wearing it. He let out a relieved noise, jumping slightly as he turned to find Chris watching him. The older man had come back out of the kitchen to see the sniper lost in thought in front of the coat rack. He couldn’t stop his laugh at Piers’ expression. His cheeks had gone a familiar pink; a color that Chris was beginning to like seeing on his lieutenant.

“Do you get off on sneaking up on me?” Piers demanded. He felt a small ounce of victory as his choice of words reddened the tips of Chris’ ears.

“I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be able to, but you make it too easy.” Chris’ eyes darted down briefly, looking at the scarf back in its proper place around Piers’ neck. He lifted an eyebrow. “Cold?”

“Not…really. Just prefer to have it.”

Piers glanced to the side, fingers clutching the edge of his scarf. Chris just shrugged. If he understood the real reason, he didn’t say.

“Doesn’t bother me. Just let me know if you want me to turn the heat up.”

Piers let out a breath, smiling softly behind the fabric before he rolled his eyes. He stiffened a little when Chris moved closer, his hands coming up to gently readjust the scarf. The tips of his fingers brushed over sensitive skin that made goosebumps race down Piers’ arms. Their eyes met and there was tenderness in his captain’s gaze. Chris didn’t do much more than trail a last touch along his jaw, hands pulling back as he smiled. He approached the change between them with such an openness that Piers found it paralyzing. When Chris broke away to go back to the kitchen, Piers reached out and caught his captain by the elbow. He didn’t understand how the other man made it look so easy, but it gave Piers the drive to chase it.

He eased himself forward, slipping between Chris’ arms that carefully slotted themselves around Piers. He studied brown eyes, wide with surprise and an undercurrent of excitement developing between them. Piers couldn’t get enough of it as their lips met in a soft kiss. His stomach was dancing, heartbeat a little too loud in his ears. Chris didn’t let him get far, strong hands gripping his waist. The solid presence of wood pressed upon his back as the kiss got a little more heated and Chris crowded him against the wall. Teeth grazed the swell of his lower lip and Piers made a hushed noise around the warmth of a tongue against his. He shuddered, breaking the kiss to breathe.

“Chris…” He couldn’t stop the way his voice dipped into a moan. Lips found his neck again, a strained noise leaving him at the aggravating skim of teeth on an already tender spot. He pushed lightly at the man’s broad shoulders, sagging against the wall as Chris pulled back.

“Too much?” His captain was flushed, hands hesitating along trim hips.

“No…just…a little fast.”

Chris made a soft oh sound, letting a breathy and uncertain laugh. Piers’ hand caught the front of his shirt, a reassuring kiss pressed to his lips. It eased the embarrassing sting Chris felt and he clutched Piers closer against the wall. Their foreheads pressed together for a soft beat, the gesture far more tender. He opened his eyes to Piers’ gentle gaze and it set him at ease once more. He pulled back, hands trailing up to take Piers’ hands. He stopped when he noticed the disgruntled look on the younger man’s face.

“What?”

“You got my shirt all wet.”

Chris just blinked. Piers frowned, pinching a damp spot that wrinkled his Henley. His eyes narrowed somewhat as he yanked the dish towel off of Chris’ shoulder. The offending evidence only made Chris sigh out loud, muttering a complaint about the sniper being too dramatic sometimes. He got about halfway back to the kitchen when a stinging thwap smacked his backside. It still smarted, even through denim, and Chris whirled back around on Piers. The dish towel was already twisted again, ready to fly if Chris tried anything. He worked his jaw, seething through clenched teeth as Piers backed away and kept the towel poised. He was grinning, a deadly glint in his gaze as he dared his captain to test him.

“Have you always been such a pain in the ass?” Chris growled, dragging a hand down his face.

“Literally, like just now? Or figuratively?” Piers was baiting him.

“Just wait, Piers. You’re going to regret agreeing to stay with me if you keep this up.”

In a rare show of childish sass, Piers stuck his tongue out at Chris. It stunned the older man long enough for him to miss as the wet towel was thrown back at him. He grasped empty air as it landed at his feet, Piers letting out a snorting laugh that had him covering his mouth. His cheeks were red, but he smiled behind the hand trying to cover up the embarrassing sound. It made Chris’ anger fizzle down into a weak ember. He picked up the towel, shooting a pointed glare at his lieutenant that he tried to make threatening. The pure joy radiating off Piers was enough for Chris to let things slide. For now.

He went back into the kitchen, balling the towel up before he tossed it on the counter. He could still feel the heat in his face and the restlessness pulsing under his skin from the kiss. Chris tried to orient himself, his brain so kindly reminding him of the passionate way his name so easily slid off Piers’ tongue. He bent over the sink, turning the faucet on to splash cold water over his face. He watched it swirl down the drain, feeling lost for just a moment. He couldn’t help but dwell on the fact that there was so much more they needed to discuss. He rubbed a hand over his chest, a flutter in his heart that insisted on being there whenever he looked at Piers. He could act confident all he wanted to. Chris was still just as scared as he was before they confessed.

What if they moved too fast?

What if Piers changed his mind?

What if…?

Chris groaned softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could beat himself over the head with all the what-ifs circling around in his brain. It was nauseating and seeing the happiness clear as day on Piers’ face never ceased to make him dizzy. He took a moment just to breathe. He mustered something close to his original smile when he finally came back out of the kitchen. Piers was standing by the shelves along the same wall where they’d just been. His eyes wandered over the photo frames, both old and new. He had one dark brown frame in his hand, holding it with incredible care. It was the only family photo Chris had of himself with Claire and their parents. The picture was faded and crinkled inside the frame and coming up alongside Piers, it felt alien to him. He didn’t offer any words as Piers glanced at him before putting the picture back. He picked up another frame, this one of just the Redfield siblings. Chris vaguely remembered Claire had insisted they take a picture to remember his birthday, a single cupcake with a candle sitting between them. Claire had looked so happy over that shitty little pastry she’d surprised him with. It made things just a little easier to cope as they grew up alone.

These were all memories he couldn’t bear to part with, even when Raccoon City was burning down around them all. He really owed Jill for saving so many of these photos for him. Piers held the picture long enough that Chris asked if he was okay. He wore an expression that Chris couldn’t read and Piers offered a half-hearted shrug as he put the frame back. He tried to move on, but Chris’ hand wrapped around his. They threaded their fingers together and Piers looked his way, pensive as Chris gestured at the frame on the shelf.

“I know this’ll probably sound stupid, but…” Piers started, trailing off as he picked the photo back up. “I don’t really know what it’s like to have a sister. Or any siblings really.”

“You’re an only child.”

“Yeah; come from a long line of military brats. Mom and dad stopped with me and that always kinda made me mad.”

“Why?”

“Being the only child in a military family sucks, Chris.”

“And you think having a younger sibling would make things better?” Chris couldn’t exactly disguise a laugh, remembering how much of a handful Claire had been and still can be.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Piers chided, elbowing him. He set the frame back down and sighed. “Your relationship with Claire, as chaotic as you say, is something I wish I could’ve had. Something a little more normal.”

“You really have a lot to learn if you think ‘Redfield’ and ‘normal’ ever belong in the same sentence.”

Piers made a huffy noise, but he was smiling. They stood there for a few more minutes as Piers looked at the photos. His fingers slid across an over-turned frame as he got to a lower shelf and he visibly saw Chris tense up in the corner of his eye. Curiosity begged him to flip the frame over and ask, but he moved on as if the photo didn’t matter. The tight grasp around his hand became gentle again and Piers knew that whatever memory was face-down on the shelf was probably a little too painful to share. The glimpse into Chris’ past that he got just then was enough for Piers and he squeezed his captain’s hand.

“This reunion you and Jill are putting together is on Saturday right?”

“Yeah. At her place outside of the city.”

“And you’re sure I won’t be a bother? It just feels…weird…for me to be there.”

“Jill insisted I bring you.”

“Insisted.” Piers repeated the word in a thoughtful tone.

Chris frowned. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Because it sounds very planned.”

“Okay, come on. I can see what you’re implying. Jill wouldn’t just use the party as an excuse to set us up together. She’s been planning this reunion for a long time.”

Piers shot him a look and Chris blanched.

“Maybe! I stress, maybe, that it’s probably just a crime of opportunity for her here.” Chris saw the holes in his excuse and his shoulders slumped. “Damn it, Jill.”

The sniper snorted a soft laugh, letting go of Chris’ hand to move away from the shelves. His captain didn’t linger long, following after the younger man until they were both relaxing back on the couch. Whatever was playing on the TV was long forgotten, replaced by the afternoon news that neither of them paid attention to. Piers leaned into Chris’ side, the older man’s arm lazily draped around his shoulders. Chris’ fingers lazily toyed with the fabric of Piers’ scarf while he sunk down into the cushions. He blindly searched along his empty side for the remote, hoping to find something better than the news.

“There’s still the problem of me having nothing to wear to this party of yours,” Piers piped up finally, laying his head back against Chris’ bicep.

“Why can’t you just borrow something?” Chris diverted, hating the idea of going back out into the snow.

“Because your clothes: will. not. fit. me.”

“Twenty bucks says they will.”

“Twenty bucks says you’ll be buying me something that does.”

One hour and four shirts later, Chris felt like he should have just kept his mouth shut. The minute Piers came out of the bedroom with a shirt that practically hung off his trim frame, Chris’ mind went somewhere else entirely. He forced himself to stay focused, insisting that Piers had found the largest shirt he owned on purpose just to prove a point. His lieutenant didn’t look amused, the both of them going back and forth until Chris really did owe Piers twenty bucks. He was hopeful he could end the debate then and there by forking over the twenty, but how Piers managed to drag him out of the apartment to go clothes shopping was the last thing he expected for the coming evening. The fact that he was now following Piers through a mall was even worse. It was crowded and loud; the number of people out on a Tuesday night was surprising. He chalked it up to the oncoming holidays as they waded through groups of people coming out of different storefronts. He grimaced, shoulders hunched as he awkwardly waited for a gaggle of teenagers to run by. Piers was only a few feet ahead, half-turned in the crowd with a barely restrained smirk on his face. He stuck his gloved hand out and Chris gladly took it.

“You look like you’re in pain.” Piers tugged his captain along, picking the path of least resistance through the crowd.

“Is it that obvious?” Chris didn’t mean to sound snippy. He swallowed down a growl when he ran smack into Piers as they got stuck behind a knot of people.

“If you think this is bad, just wait until next week when it’s Black Friday.”

“You wouldn’t actually drag me out into that…would you?”

“Hell no. I’m not some masochist, Captain.”

Chris just sighed, not even bothering to correct Piers about the use of his title off the field this time. He’d never admit it, but he found himself awfully fond of the reflex. He focused on simply following Piers through the mall until they finally found a store that the sniper was willing to look in. It seemed like any other men’s fashion store, but the best part was how empty it was compared to outside. Chris breathed a little easier, straightening out the ache in his shoulders as Piers left him to wander the racks. There were signs posted along the shelves, letting customers know about month-long holiday deals. This week had items priced at 25% off.  Chris wasn’t really in the market for clothes himself, but it didn’t stop him from browsing.

He thumbed through a stack of neutral color tops, occasionally glancing up to see where Piers had gone. He was at the very back of the store browsing what looked like the pants section. Chris kept meandering, nothing really catching his eye. The shelves quickly shifted into hanging racks as he neared the middle of the store. A few of the long-sleeves drew Chris in, their colors a little outside of his usual range. One of them was a dark purple button-down, the material a soft cotton as he ran a hand down the sleeve. He circled the rack, looking over more shirts in a range of whites, blues, and even striped. He squinted at the patterns that hurt his eyes, but he ended up coming back to the purple.

“Can I help you find anything, sir?” A chipper voice startled him from the side. He sucked in a breath when he realized it was just a store employee working the floor.

“Oh, I…was just looking,” he shrugged, dropping the sleeve of the shirt.

“If you need a specific size, I can always check to see if we have it in stock.”

Chris looked conflicted, put on the spot by the clerk, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to say no. After a few awkward seconds, he gave her a weak nod and mumbled his measurements. She disappeared just about as fast as she popped up and Chris looked back down at the shirt on the rack with a ragged sigh. Piers was still by the pants, holding a couple of pairs in his arm as he searched. He took a few steps in his lieutenant’s direction, hunched down to avoid more attention. He wasn’t even the one here to buy anything, so why did he have to be the one the clerks always zeroed in on? He vaguely wondered if he just constantly looked lost as he glanced at himself in a mirror attached to the end of high shelf. He almost made it when the employee snuck up on him again.

“Here you go!” She handed the shirt his way and he fumbled with the hanger. He thanked her, hoping for that to be the end of it until she piped up again. “Anything else I can help you find?”

Chris almost shook his head no when he hesitated. A glance back at Piers had a small idea forming. “Actually…can you show me your outerwear?”

Being left behind, Piers didn’t notice his captain disappearing after the clerk. He held one pair of black jeans in his grasp while he held up another pair in front of him in the mirror. They were different cuts and he wasn’t entirely sure what looked better. As much as he teased Chris about Jill playing matchmaker, the impending reunion on Saturday had the sniper conflicted. He went back and forth on the pants, growing more and more irritated. These were all Chris’ long time friends. He had to make a good impression. At least that’s what he’d convinced himself he needed to do. His frown deepened the longer he stared into the mirror.

The bruising along his cheek had steadily gotten worse as it healed, looking mottled and dark. He still had a bandage on his chin, but he barely felt the sting of it anymore. He pried his eyes off his face, brow furrowed the longer he couldn’t decide between the pants. Giving up, he slung both pairs over his forearm and headed into the shirts. He’d just buy both and get Chris’ opinion later. He came to a stop when he realized he couldn’t find said man anywhere nearby. He searched until he finally saw his captain at the counter, two bags in hand with the cashier. Piers watched them for only a moment as he stopped at the sweaters. It was certainly the weather for them now. He’d only brought a couple long-sleeves and t-shirts with him.

It was a cool grey cable knit design. He compared it to the dark denim jeans and figured it might look nice enough together. He found his size, doing his best to keep himself on task. Piers went over the list of people Chris had mentioned would be there. He wandered down an aisle of shelves, not quite looking at the shirts folded upon them.  The crease in his brow grew more worried as he stopped. He couldn’t see Chris anymore, blocked by the shelves. It was still days away. That was plenty of time for him to get things figured out with his captain. Right? Piers leaned back against the shelf, glaring at the floor. He didn’t like the idea of rushing things. The length of their shore leave seemed like the perfect time to understand what they both wanted.

The reunion complicated things.

He felt liked he’d been backed into a corner out of nowhere. He looked at the clothes in his hands, unease creeping up his spine. He hadn’t really considered what it would look like to everyone at the party when he showed up unannounced as Chris’ guest. Given the very early stage they were still stumbling through, Piers wondered exactly what he would be going as: a friend or as a partner? The tension coiled in his stomach as he finally started looking at the shirts again. He blindly picked up a white long-sleeve, barely glancing at the size as he took it with him towards the front counter. Piers set the clothes down, looking back around for Chris. He found him waiting by the entrance of the store, bags still in hand. The tired frown Chris wore softened into a grin when he finally saw Piers again. He gave him a simple wave and Piers felt his cheeks warm. He took his bag from the clerk, joining Chris at the door.

“Thought I’d lost you there,” Chris tried to joke, taking in the sullen look on Piers’ face. “Everything okay?”

Piers leaned into the arm that wrapped around his shoulder as they started to walk. They slipped into the moving river of people, going deeper into the mall. Chris never let go, keeping Piers close and it worked to soothe his mood about the party. “I think I’m just a little nervous.”

“Piers, I promise everyone is going to like you.”

“It’s not that.”

The arm around his shoulder tightened and Piers found himself being pulled from the crowd. They came to an emptier spot against the window of a café with dim lights and the sweet smell of cinnamon. Chris moved to face the younger man, letting their fingers curl together between them. “Talk to me.”

“It’s about you and me. As…” Piers exhaled, head tilted down for a moment. “Well, as a couple.”

“Hey…” Chris’ voice became a soft whisper. He set his bag down, using that hand to cup Piers’ good cheek. “You don’t have to worry about that, I swear.”

“They’ll still realize something is going on though.”

“Maybe they will, maybe they won’t. That’s still up to us to tell, isn’t it?”

“Wait.” Piers’ hand curled around Chris’ wrist, brow pinched. He looked at his captain for a long moment. “Are you saying we don’t tell them?”

“I’m saying that I know how new this is. I’m saying that I know how private of a person that you are. I’m also saying that I promised to take this at whatever pace you wanted, Piers.”

“You’d just be okay with that?”

‘They’re all practically family to me. They’d respect whatever decision I make about my private life. Besides…” Chris’ voice dropped off with a soft lilt. He leaned forward, brushing a faint kiss against Piers’ lips. “I like the idea of keeping you to myself just a little while longer.”

Piers’ face went a pleasant shade of red and Chris wrapped his arms around his lieutenant’s waist. The sniper let out a huff and dropped his forehead onto Chris’ shoulder. He grumbled against Chris’ coat: “We’re in public. Stop teasing me!”

“Will you forgive me if I tell you I got you something?”

“Is that what that other bag is?”

“Maybe. But you can only have it if you stop pouting.”

“I am not.”

“Brooding then.”

“You’re the worst.”

Chapter Text

“So what did you buy anyways?” Chris asked as he plopped down onto the sofa, a cold beer in hand.

The pair of them were finally back at the apartment, now late into the evening. Piers had been merciful on Chris after the fourth store, agreeing to leave as the early holiday shoppers only got worse. Piers was still at the table, finishing off a piece of pie. A café in the mall had had a shelf of pre-boxed pumpkin pies in the store window when they’d walked by. Piers didn’t miss the way his captain had lingered in front of them. Piers didn’t see the harm in picking up a pie. It would be the perfect way to end the evening on a very sweet note. Their bags sat on the lone recliner in the living room. Chris had tried to snoop through as Piers cut out a couple slices for them both.

The apartment was pleasantly quiet with only the sound of warm air rattling the vents. A newspaper was spread across the coffee table as Chris flipped a page. His previous question fell on deaf ears as Piers was too lost in his pie to answer. The sniper had a sweet tooth like no other. The heavy whip cream nearly drowned the slice on his plate. Chris had given him shit the minute he saw the mountain of sugar covering the pie. Piers glanced at the back of Chris’ head, a chunk of whip cream sitting on his fork. The temptation was real.

“Want me to show you?” He finally answered with the last sweet bite of pie and cream between his teeth.

Chris just made an audible grunt from the couch as Piers left his plate in the kitchen sink. He passed behind the sofa, moving to grab his bags off the armchair. Chris’ bag was crumpled shut and curiosity got the better of him. He’d been promised a present after all. Piers barely got the bag open when a pillow got flung at him. It crashed against the bag and startled him backwards. He reeled on his captain, confused when Chris barked at him not to look. Piers scowled, flustering at the very hypocritical order. He pointed that exact fact out and Chris just shrugged, not caring as he didn’t want to ruin the surprise. Piers shot him a very testy look, shoulders hunched slightly before he exhaled a loud sigh. He disappeared into the bedroom with an animated eye roll, pointedly ignoring Chris’ poorly hidden chuckle. He shook out the bags, spilling the new clothes over the bed. He eyed every choice and crossed his arms. The amount he’d bought felt like overkill now. He clicked his tongue against his teeth derisively. Sifting in the pile, he tugged on the first pair of black jeans. They were a boot-cut style. Pairing a white undershirt and his new sweater with them, Piers pinched the bridge of his nose.

He counted slowly, telling himself that he had not gone overboard in trying to impress Chris’ friends. He bit his lip, seeing the lie for what it was. He forced himself to step out of the bedroom, not at all feeling confident. “How’s this?”

There was a ruffle of papers as Chris folded the sports section shut. Piers had his hands shoved in his pockets, bent slightly at the shoulders with one foot kicking slightly at the carpet. He looked uncomfortable. Chris pulled himself off the couch, moving around to the arm of it. He sat on just the edge of it, opting for a supportive smile. “It looks good.”

“You think so?” There was an edge to Piers’ voice.

“I do. Is that what you want to wear on Saturday?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure.”

Chris sensed the hesitancy around the deflection, but he made sure to keep his expression neutral. “I know you bought more. Want to show me?”

Piers nodded slightly, pulling himself back into the bedroom. Chris’ smile slipped, brow pinched with worry. He ran a hand through his hair as he stayed put. He wondered if there was too much pressure being placed on his lieutenant. Their confession was still fresh; year-long feelings finally allowing themselves to breathe. He feared the strain it could be putting on Piers and Chris knew he wouldn’t just come out and admit it. Both men could be equally stubborn about it. He rubbed his hands together in thought, wondering what would be the easiest way to broach it. He didn’t get very long to plan it out when Piers when finally came back, his scarf gone and the boot-cuts replaced by black skinny jeans. They hugged the natural curve of his legs, leaving nothing to the imagination as Chris’ brain juttered to a stop.

“I’ve got these instead,” Piers mumbled, rubbing the side of his exposed neck. Chris quietly spared a glance to the red marks littering the other man’s skin. A small curl of shame still settled in his chest.

“I…they look good. Better.” Chris croaked out the words, his face feeling hot as he made himself focus on the jeans. He sighed inwardly, embarrassed at how fast his mind traveled south at the clean outline of Piers’ hips accentuated by the black denim. He cleared his throat. “You should wear those. To the party. Yeah.”

He could feel Piers staring at him, a suspicious glint in the sniper’s eyes. Chris just offered a very weak smile, fighting to not let his eyes stray downwards any longer. He knew Piers could read him like a book as something shifted between them again like it had before their first kiss. It was a conflicting energy both wanted to act on, but the aftermath always felt messy as Chris looked back at the evidence on Piers’ neck. Piers knew he was looking as the sniper’s cheeks turned a rosy shade. Chris acted first, extending a tentative hand outwards. The fingers slotted together easily and Chris motioned for Piers to edge closer. His knees knocked against Piers’ thighs softly until he was able to get the younger man down to his level. His other hand cupped Piers’ jaw.

“I think we should talk about a couple things.” He murmured and pressed a soft kiss to Piers’ lips. Piers lingered and Chris didn’t resist letting the kiss become something deeper. He only had the decency to stop when he practically tried to tug Piers into his lap. He pulled back, eyes shut with a shaky exhale. “We really need to talk before things go too far.”

“Too far?” Piers echoed him, failing to mask the sudden fear in his voice. Chris shushed him with a softer kiss to his chin.

“Don’t. I mean we need to talk boundaries. We haven’t exactly…” Chris trailed fingers down the side of Piers’ neck and made the younger man shiver. “I said was okay with whatever pace you wanted to set, but I don’t think either of us are sure what that looks like.”

Piers nodded softly, sliding back. The anxiety eating him up inside calmed slightly at Chris’ hand still holding his. “Where did you want to start?”

“Well…it feels like you and I are in two different places. Seems like I’m a lot more open with…shit. More forward, I guess?”

“I’m not embarrassed. Of you. Of us.”

“That’s not what I mean. I’m perfectly fine with how open or private we want to be. I’m talking about the physical stuff.”

Piers made a faint huff, head tilted back. “I know. I think I underestimated how fast you could adjust. One minute we’re just friends, the next we’re…”

“Boyfriends?” Chris pushed, offering the word up as Piers struggled. He was sure both of them had been prepared to dance around putting a name to it, but forgive him if he was a little impatient. The imperceptible way Piers’ eyes widened told him to tread carefully.

“That…putting a label on it like that. Makes it sound serious.”

“I am serious.” Chris fingers tightened around his. “Piers: you are something worth taking seriously.

The blunt honesty that Chris came at him with washed over Piers like cold water. It made every inch of him feel wired and alert. He drank in how gently his captain handled him, taking the time to actually give their budding relationship the care it deserved. Chris motioned for him to sit, the browns of his eyes filled with tender warmth. They sat together for a few quiet seconds, letting Piers get himself oriented in the moment. Chris told him to stay put, leaving him to rummage through bag on the recliner. He pulled something from it, quickly hiding it behind his back. He sat back down, whispering for Piers to shut his eyes. The sniper humored him, barely cracking a smile as soft fabric was soon draped around his neck. It was looped twice before the weight on the couch shifted and Chris sat back looking satisfied. When he could finally open his eyes, he was greeted to the sight of a black scarf just brushing his chin. It was warm and he couldn’t resist nestling his chin down into it.

“Surprise,” Chris grinned, fanning his hands slightly. It made Piers laugh, the tips of his ears red.

“Chris…I love it. Thank you.”

“I was gonna wait until Saturday to give it to you, but right now felt better.”

“I’m gonna be honest: you’re a lot more sappy than I expected you to be.”

“Well, not many people get to see this side of me.”

Chris’ cheeks were flushed and Piers felt himself starting to fall even harder for the man. His heart was beating quicker and he reached for Chris’ hand. He was far luckier than he ever realized to know Chris Redfield as a captain and as a friend. And now as something far more intimate. Their fingers tangled together atop the couch cushions.

“I like this side of you,” Piers found himself saying.

“We do have the next two weeks to ourselves if you’re that eager to see more of me.”

The words were meant to sound playful, but the deep color suddenly creeping up Piers’ neck made Chris double-back on what he said. His voice cracked around an anxious laugh, trying to reassure his lieutenant that was not what he meant. He smacked a palm to his forehead, angrily mumbling that this was the exact thing he’d been trying to address at the beginning of their conversation. Piers just sat there, a little lost as to what was happening. The unintentional innuendo wasn’t unwelcome. It just caught the sniper off guard like every other heated moment between them. Piers drew in a breath, taking both hands and giving his captain a soft shake of the shoulders.

“It’s not a big deal,” he reassured. He squeezed Chris’ shoulders.

“It should be. This is why I said we should talk.”

“Okay, I’m all for that. But can you not beat yourself up over one less than innocent comment? You are kind of the one who started all this by admitting you liked my ass.”

“Piers.”

“Low blow, I know. Kinda worth it.”

Piers bit his lip, a smile plain as day on his face. He dropped his grip on Chris’ shoulders, shrugging when his captain turned a very sour look on him.

Chris let out a low aggravated noise. “The things you do to me: it’s fucking unfair.”

“Then tell me exactly what you do and do not want to do.”

“That’s the problem. I want everything.”

The heated undercurrent to Chris’ words pulled Piers out of his attempts to lighten the mood. The unspoken want in Chris’ gaze made him feel pinned in place. He swallowed roughly, sinking back into the couch cushions a little more. He couldn’t deny that Chris was right. They had to talk about it before it became a problem. His eyes searched Chris’ and Piers clasped his hands together tightly in his lap.

“You’re right. We do need to talk about it,” Piers relented, finding his voice. His stomach did a flip.

“Before we do: I’m sorry. Your neck.” Chris had edged a bit closer, but he kept his hands perched on his thighs. “I went too far.”

“I told you it was fine.”

“Sure. It’s fine now. But in the moment? I got ahead of myself.”

“Okay…okay. You’re sorry and I accept that. But I also need you to accept that I didn’t say stop.”

“But-”

“I’m not some blushing virgin, Chris. It’s not the first time I’ve had a hickey,” Piers deflected, feeling the color getting worse on his face. He sighed softly and rubbed his forehead. “If I had wanted you to stop, I would’ve said so. And I trust you enough to understand that.”

Chris deflated slightly, letting out a breath he’d been holding in. “You still seem pretty nervous if we do more than kissing though. I’ve noticed.”

 “You’re not…wrong.” Piers blanched. The embarrassment was plain as day on his face. He twisted his hands together. “Don’t laugh, okay? I’ve just…never really done a lot. With people I’ve dated.”

Piers scowled, arms crossing over his chest as he forced himself to elaborate. Being twenty-four and the single child of an all military family never left him much room to “explore.” He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was gay. He’d figured that out the minute he hit puberty. Being bounced between schools every time his father was posted at a new assignment, friends were extremely limited. Anything romantic was even worse off. He was an army brat; splitting all his time between basic training and homework. He could count the number of hook-ups he’d managed on one hand alone before he’d ever met Chris. He worked his jaw, a hand slipping over his eyes as he admitted all of it to Chris. His cheeks kept burning as he fell quiet. He glanced between his fingers to see no judgment on the other man’s face, only understanding. Piers sighed into the new scarf around his neck.

“It’s why I get jumpy. All I’ve got to fall back on is a couple trysts at parties with other cadets. I’m not sure I can measure up to anything you’ve probably experienced.”

The unspoken mention of the gap in their ages became very apparent as Piers looked away. Chris didn’t say anything at first; not quite expecting this was how that issue would present itself. Yet, it made the most sense here. Piers never really cared for other people’s opinions about who he was, but that made him equally harder on himself when he set his own standards to live by. Chris would have to nip this particular bud now before it got worse. He ran a hand over his chin in thought before he offered a softer smile towards his lieutenant.

“We’re actually not that different, Piers.” Chris leaned back against the sofa, stretching his legs out beneath the coffee table. He let his head rest on the back cushions, eyes staring at the far wall. “Sure, I’m older. That gives me more time to experiment. Figure it out? Yeah, right. Not in my line of work."

“You weren’t always in the BSAA.”

“Nope, but I’ve been chasing Umbrella since I was basically your age. It’s a lifetime dedication that’s dragged me across four continents. How much time do you honestly think I had for dating?”

“Fair point.”

Chris glanced at Piers out of the corner of his eye. “So maybe we can agree that measuring our relationship against experience isn’t the healthiest approach? Which is why I think we need to establish some basic boundaries about what is okay to do right now versus when we have a little more time to explore later.”

Piers heaved out another sigh and sunk down into the cushions, mumbling that he was right. He made himself relax, mirroring Chris and letting his long legs tuck beneath the table. He folded his arms behind his head, letting his new scarf act like a pillow. “Everything we’ve been doing so far has been okay.”

“Even the neck thing?”

“Even that…” He pursed his lips behind the scarf, cheeks hot. “But if you’re insisting on boundaries, I want more warning. Just…ask or something. Something verbal.”

“I can do that.”

“I’m not against PDA either. Like at the mall. Or the pool hall.”

That last mention got a good laugh out of Chris. The older man tilted his head to the side so he could see Piers’ full blush. It only made him more attractive. “I can kiss you in front of complete strangers. Gotcha.”

“Don’t make it sound so lewd,” Piers griped, kicking slightly at Chris’ leg. “Ass.”

Chris kicked back, almost nailing his shin against the coffee table. “At this point, the basics are all okay. Anything more needs to be verbally broached before it happens.”

“If we’re making it that simple, yes.”

Piers moved his legs out of reach and Chris was too lazy to chase him, the wall on the clock giving way to a late hour. They’d been talking for awhile now. Neither of them moved as they fell into a comfortable silence. Chris exhaled softly, eyes shut again. The rustle of the vents came on once more in the background. He almost wished it was summer. He hated that winter kept them indoors so much. Chris had a few ideas bouncing around in his head for things he wanted to do with Piers. Ideas for dates. Better than crowded malls and ice rinks and dim pool halls. The city was not his element. He thought back on the woodland painting he bought for Jill, wishing he could find a forest that serene. Going for a hike sounded like a much better first date. He felt the cushions moving as Piers readjusted, but he only cracked an eye when a new weight settled on his shoulder.

Piers had wormed his way into Chris’ side, head resting on a broad shoulder. His own eyes were barely open, half-focused on the low table. He breathed in with a slow breath, cheeks a little pink at how much he liked the scent of mint and pine that his captain wore. The warmth the other man radiated was lulling Piers to sleep. He burrowed in more when Chris moved his arm and the weight of his head slipped onto Chris’ chest. A strong heartbeat whispered against his ear. He listened to it for a long while as fingers caressed his hair. It was a moment of stillness he didn’t want to let go of, even when the clock chimed very quietly that it was past midnight.

“We should sleep,” Chris murmured, eyes heavy. He grimaced at a twinge in his neck.

“M’comfy…” Piers slurred, face half-pressed into his captain’s chest.

“I’m getting a cramp.”

“Old man.”

Chris yawned hard enough for tears to prick his vision. Piers still didn’t move, breathing shallow and even. Chris sat there, giving it a few more minutes as he tried to process what was happening. He shook Piers, grunting at him to get up. All he earned was an irritated swat at his thigh. Chris worked his jaw, half-tempted to shove Piers off of him. He used what strength he had to get a grip on the sniper’s arm, hoisting him upwards at an awkward angle. “Nivans: wake up.”

“I’m up! M’up!” Piers struggled to get himself upright, accidentally elbowing the other man in the stomach.

Chris wheezed, shoving Piers off before he lost what little patience he had left. He rubbed the smarting spot, an exhausted snarl on his face as he finally got off the couch. Piers barely got an apology out as he yawned, arms stretched over his knees. He griped when a hand wrapped around his bicep, still tugging him to follow. He shook his head as he wanted to stay on the warm cushions, but Chris wasn’t letting him. He blindly reached for a pillow, eyes on the verge of shutting again. It was a losing battle when Chris pulled again and finally got him on his feet. He shot a very weak glare at his captain.

“You can’t sleep in your new clothes. Go get changed.”

Piers looked like he wanted to argue, but Chris didn’t give him a chance. He just pointed at the bedroom door. Piers couldn’t help but feel like a scolded child suddenly. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, calling Chris “pushy” under his breath. His captain just sighed, following after him into the bedroom. Both of them stood at the bedside as Piers suddenly remembered the tangle of clothes he’d dumped out from his bags. His shoulders drooped, exhausted. Chris just stared, a tired eye twitch starting to annoy him.

“Why’d you buy so much?”

“Don’t start.”

“Fine. Just get them off the bed.”

“And put them where? That’s not gonna all fit in my backpack.”

“That’s not my fault!” Chris snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. He gave himself a second, breathing in and out. He glanced around the room as Piers haphazardly started folding the nearest clothes. A light bulb finally went off. “Bottom drawer on the right.”

“What?”

“Dresser. Bottom right. Just put them in there. It’s practically empty."

Piers just stared at him for a beat, clutching a half-folded shirt. He blew out a puff of air when Chris demanded to know what he was waiting for. “Are you sure?”

“Piers, it’s not like I’m asking you to move in. I just want my bed back.”

The explanation seemed so simple to Chris in the heat of the moment, but he slowed as Piers got back to folding without a reply. Rubbing a palm along his aching neck, Chris came closer and he picked up the other pair of jeans. He folded them, putting them with the others in a pile on the bed. He glanced at Piers who was failing to hide a frown. It was enough to make Chris sigh and he reached out, fingers brushing against the back of Piers’ hand.

“I didn’t mean for that to sound so harsh,” he tried.

“It’s fine. We’re both just tired.”

“Please use the drawer. I’d be a bad host if I didn’t let you. Especially since I asked you to stay for our entire shore leave.”

“I guess I can. Since you’re insisting so much.” Piers smiled finally, bumping his shoulder against Chris. He went back to folding, waving his captain away so he could get ready for bed.

Chris made a thankful noise, covering another painful yawn as he disappeared into the bathroom. The door swung behind him, a slim ray of light appearing in the crack as it didn’t shut all the way. Piers got back to folding, not caring at how messy they looked. He could do a better job in the morning. He dragged both his backpack and the armful of clothes towards the dresser, getting the bottom drawer open with a yank. It only had one shirt messily shoved towards the back in it. Rubbing the sleep out of his eye, he didn’t pay much attention to it as he added it to the top of the pile. He figured he might as well keep it from getting swallowed up in his own mess of clothes. He crammed the freshly bought clothes into the drawer as well as what was left in his pack. It all just fit barely and Piers was left with the creeping sense that he’d gone a little overboard with his nervous shopping.

He unwound the scarf from his neck, having a little more care with it as he set it on the dresser top. His sweater and jeans came next, folded neatly next to the scarf. He left his undershirt on, a yawn cracking his jaw. He shimmied back into his sweats, standing in a sleepy stupor at the dresser. He blinked back to reality when the soft touch of fingers crept along his hips. They gripped at his waistband, pulling him back until he was flush against Chris’ chest. The other man pressed a fond kiss to the bare skin of Piers’ neck. The hands on his hips became arms around his waist and a stubbled chin rested on his shoulder.

“So…I was thinking.” Chris’ voice was a whisper in his ear, creating goose bumps up and down his arms.

“What about?” Piers found his voice, leaning back against Chris. His cheeks warmed when he realized Chris didn’t have a shirt on.

“I want to take you out on a proper date.”

“A date, huh?”

“Our first one.”

“Chris, you don’t have to do that-” A warm chuckle in his ear made Piers fight down another shiver.

“I want to. Besides, I think we deserve one.”

Piers softer laugh in answer made Chris hug him close, lazy and content. They stayed together in their sleepy embrace until Piers gave Chris a tender nudge. It was late and both of them were near falling-down tired. Chris didn’t want to let go, quietly kissing the back of Piers’ neck at the hairline. His lieutenant just sighed and stayed put. He’d let Chris have this. The man was far cuddlier when he was tired and Piers relished the opportunity to get used to it. In truth, Chris hated the idea of going to bed alone when he knew that Piers was there in his apartment. He just couldn’t admit it. Not yet. He waited a few more minutes before he heard the quiet sound of his name being said again. His answer was a muffled whine, sagging backwards as Piers finally got him to let go. Piers turned his way and Chris didn’t have the energy to feel bashful as his lieutenant looked him up and down almost approvingly.

“You look like you’re gonna keel over,” Piers teased, hands hesitating as they brushed bare skin and muscle. His eyes tracked over toned abs and Chris raised a brow. Piers settled for flicking him on the forehead.

“Rude.” Chris rubbed the stinging mark, a slight grin on his face.

“Go to bed. You’re taking me on a date tomorrow.”

Chris trailed after him as Piers left for the living room, catching the sniper’s wrist in the doorway. He held it loosely, looking down at slender fingers. Piers leaned against the door frame, head cocked to the side. Chris’ face flushed and he cleared his throat. “Just wanted to say good night.”

He watched soft lips quirk into a smile and brown eyes met hazel. “That all?”

Chris huffed, leaning down to press a slow kiss that made Piers grip his hand a bit tighter. Pulling back was the last thing he wanted, but he made himself. “Night then.”

“Night.”

Piers squeezed his hand, leaving Chris in the doorway alone. He stayed where he was, quietly watching as Piers made up the couch. He took a few steps back over the carpet, finding the edge of the bed as he sat down. The light from the living room finally went out and he mirrored the action, tugging on the lamp cord in the bedroom. Swallowed up by a sudden darkness, Chris settled back into bed. He lay there, sinking back into the tired haze he’d been fighting when Piers was still within reach. He gripped the comforter, pulling it close as he glanced at the empty spot next to him. Chris let out a long exhale, making himself shut his eyes as he turned away.