Captain Chris Redfield

"You've been doing this as long as I have, hmm?" Chris repeated, slow and low and dangerous. "I looked into you. Got started on your police training in '97, finished, then fought to get assigned to Raccoon City. Thought you'd make a difference with the murders? That you, a wet behind the ears rookie, could do better than S.T.A.R.S.?"

"B.S.A.A.'s buying." he answered and swept one hand in a broad invitation. "As long as I bring back the receipts, we're on company dime."

The delivery was humorous, almost a little conspiratorial and it took a moment for rationality to settle back in again.

This was a business trip. Piers was his lieutenant.

"Really? Pulling the protective big brother act now?" He rested his chin in his hand, eyeing the older man up and down. Chris didn't strike him as the type that would actually threaten a guy just for showing interest in his little sister - besides the fact that Claire could very clearly handle any unwanted attention all on her own.

"Knocked you ...." he repeated, then snorted derisively. "I heard from a few guys that you're a cocky little asshole, but I thought, from everything that Claire's said, they must be wrong. Guess they aren't."

He straightened, pulling himself forward to rest both elbows on the table.

"You might be used to playing your lone wolf bullshit and if you're out there on your own, I don't fucking care if you want to stand in the line of fire while refusing to wear body armor, but if you work with me, you're going to be a team player." he continued, voice low and eyes boring into Leon's. "You very nearly took that hit, all while blocking Graham's shot. I knocked you to the pavement because I wanted to save your ass."

Airports were no stranger to him, but he had never quite gotten used to the liminal chaos of them. So many people moving in so many different directions, the echoing noise of overhead announcements and voices calling out to each other - he'd seen zombie hordes with more order.

Chris was easy to spot, luckily. His height and bulk, even without the fatigues adding to it, made him stand out from the crowd. Piers' pace picked up almost to a trot before he caught himself in at the last few steps. 'Acting like an overeager puppy, calm down, Nivans!'

The next thought to cross his mind sounded remarkably like his grandmother's 'Oh, mercy!' as he took in the tight shirt that seemed like it was clinging to every inch of Chris' chest. He'd seen Chris dressed down before, and had been convinced that the man's closet was just 20 turtlenecks in various shades of black.

Hopefully the red in his face would be mistaken for being flushed from jogging across the airport floor. He had to convince himself of that.

He'd opted, himself, for worn blue jeans and a t-shirt he'd picked up at a thrift store years ago that somehow had survived longer than most newer clothes managed to. Whatever meaning the print had on it had been lost to time, but there was a jackal and he liked jackals, so that had been reason enough to pull it off the rack.

The flight was going to be around five hours, and he intended to be comfortable for that. Only now he was standing in front of Chris Redfield outside of any kind of professional environment, and he had no idea what to say.

"One too many bad experiences with traffic and security means I like to be early." Chris replied with a one sided shrug. "Got everything you need?"

It wasn't entirely Redfield's fault that he was exceptionally prickly at the moment. It was too soon. He could still feel the weight of Luis' last words hanging over him like a shroud here, questioning whether people could change.

They could, but in his experience so far, it always seemed to be for the worse. And just letting himself think that, giving in to that pessimism, even if only in the darker corners of his mind, felt like spitting on the man's grave.

The mention of Claire was almost a boon. Even when she wasn't physically present, her sunshine of personality had a way of chasing the shadows out.

"She's doing better. Has fully given up on journalism now, but her work with that new organisation seems to be doing her a lot of good." his tone was casual in a way that made it very clear that he wasn't going to let Leon's bristly attitude get to him.

Then she tried to narrow it down. He seemed to be following the main route to go to the city center, so logically branching off from there seemed the most likely. She took a screenshot then pulled up another tab. Events near me…

“Is it at a movie theater?”

'Good.' Chris thought, then hummed a thoughtful little sound, hamming it up, as Sherry would call it.

"No." he answered finally when the car stopped at another red light. Traffic was thickening around them and from experience he knew that they'd be stuck at this intersection for at least three red cycles. "That was four questions."

The car speakers chimed with the message tone from his phone and he leaned over to flick at the screen of the device mounted on the dashboard. Old fashioned, when he could just fully connect to the car's systems and let it read the message out for him, but even if he didn't have his own reservations about a lot of modern technology, he knew that Sherry would have his head if he did anything as technically unsafe as that.

❛  careful, or we're never getting out of this bed.  ❜

❛  you're making it very hard to leave.  ❜

❛  who said i wanted this to just be a casual one-time thing?  ❜

❛  you looked peaceful, so i didn't want to wake you just yet.  ❜

❛  don't get up yet.  ❜

❛  sorry, i didn't mean to fall asleep on you after.  ❜

❛  we should probably talk about what happened.  ❜

❛  can we not ruin this by talking yet?  ❜

❛  i could get used to waking up like this.  ❜

❛  i thought you'd be gone before i woke up.  ❜

❛  don't look at me like that unless you want a round two.  ❜

❛  you're trouble first thing in the morning.  ❜

❛  no need to act shy now, I saw more than that last night.  ❜

❛  you're blushing again.  ❜

❛  i think the neighbors may have heard us.  ❜

❛  it's only awkward if you make it awkward.  ❜

❛  i don't know what's gotten into me last night; i don't usually do this.  ❜

❛  i should probably go now ... unless you want me to stay.  ❜

❛  please don't say this was a mistake.  ❜

❛  we crossed a line last night.  ❜

❛  well, i guess this does complicate things.  ❜

❛  i don't want to pretend this didn't happen.  ❜

❛  are you sore?  ❜

❛  i think my shirt is still somewhere in the hallway.  ❜

❛  how did your clothes end up over there?  ❜

❛  i remember you were very eager to get them off.  ❜

❛  i think i have some scratches on my back.  ❜

❛  i got worried when i woke up, and you weren't there anymore.  ❜

❛  i don't want this to be just one night.  ❜

❛  please tell me you don't regret it.  ❜

❛  last night meant something to me.  ❜

❛  this changes everything, doesn't it?  ❜

❛  were you trying to leave without saying goodbye?  ❜

❛  like you even remember what happened last night ...  ❜

❛  you might want to cover that before anyone sees.  ❜

❛  i didn't hear you complaining last night.  ❜

❛  i liked seeing that side of you.  ❜

❛  you took care of me last night. let me return the favor.  ❜

❛  i think i'm in trouble because i want this again.  ❜

❛  i wanted you last night, and i still want you today.  ❜

It was ridiculous. Chris Redfield was so far out of his league they were playing different sports altogether, but all it took was the barest fraction of a compliment to get him stuttering and flustered. Here he was, a grown ass adult, still reacting like his childhood crush just cast him a smile.

How couldn't he, though? He was strong, handsome, confident, and despite having every reason to have an ego the size of Jupiter, he was humble, and so quick to put others' needs ahead of his own. He was kind.

More of a man than his father ever was, with none of the toxic traits brought on by religion and military dogma - which was why, during the first few months under his command, Piers had thought that was who he was trying to replace with Chris. He'd thought he wanted to be him, someday.

Then he got that text message from his little brother, now almost an adult himself, wishing him a Merry Christmas. The message that broke him down, alone in the showers, knowing his brother had to have snuck out to even send it, knowing he was going to be alone again for the holidays, that he would never be welcome at a Nivans family gathering ever again.

It had been mortifying when the Captain had appeared and quietly sat down on the bench next to him, and for a moment he had genuinely wondered if that was it for his position with the BSAA. Can't have men on the team who couldn't keep it together over a damned text, could they?

But, no. Chris had spoken softly, guessed, rightly, that it was holidays and family troubles, asked if he wanted to talk or if he wanted to be alone. Then sat with him in silence when Piers answered 'no' to both questions.

That's when Piers knew it went beyond admiration.

And now his mind was wandering to the idea of Chris in his dress uniform, and that was not making things easier. Piers cleared his throat after swallowing the sugary beverage.

'This is ridiculous.' he chastised himself.

He was a grownass man, long, long past the time he was mooning over pretty boys in the schoolyard.

"We leave the day before. Friday. Take a flight to California. We'll be back by Monday."

---

Friday had come way more quickly than Chris had anticipated between reports of an outbreak coming in from Alaska, of all places, having to coordinate a squad to check it out, warning Leon, in case he'd be going up there as well (he was, unsurprisingly), briefing his men about the blonde, capable, sassy asshole that may fuck up their routine and prepping the speech he was supposed to give at the conference.

What had been a little bit of a surprise was that command had shelled out for business class for them.

Which also meant flying commercial and being in civilian clothes for it.

Chris had opted for simple black jeans and a compression shirt that he would most likely regret the moment they landed and he'd step out of the range of air conditioning, but he'd realized, years ago, that the tightness of the fabric, the slight resistance with every deep breath he took, felt grounding.

Adjusting the strap of his duffle bag on his shoulder, he scanned the crowd passing by the terminal for a familiar face.

Well, dress uniform was definitely a more comfortable fit, and you got taken more seriously. Come to think of it, this would be his first time actually wearing it outside of the original fitting. That thought stirred the nasty little voice of self-doubt in his head, coming out in a slightly softer, uncertain question.

He slammed down on that train of thought when the Christmas before came to mind, unbidden. The evening he'd found Piers in tears in the locker rooms, hair still wet from his shower, dressed in nothing but a towel and eyes red and cheeks wet as he held his phone in a death grip.

Convenience. Old man.

"So it's close to the hotel...Will go late..." She shot him a smirk. "Wasn't asking questions. Statements."

Pulling out her phone, she unlocked it to pull up her search bar. He hadn't said she couldn't use it, now had he?

He hadn't told her which hotel they were going to, but he knew more than well enough what a good cross reference check could come up with.

That particular skill was one Sherry had imparted on Rose.

Find hotels with anything she might be interested in within the given radius.

She twirled some of her pin straight hair around her finger absently, trying to find how best to word her questions.

"Mmhmm." he hummed in response, tilting a small smile at Rose. "Promise, no training."

Her next question broadened that smile a little further. Claire really had taught her well.

'Who's involved', 'What's the location'.

Good course of questioning.

@houndwolfsquad

That gave Piers a moment's pause, which he filled by pulling the tab back on the can of cherry coke he'd brought with him from the kitchen. By now the rest of the squad knew not to touch his soda - most anything else in the shared fridge was fair game, but leave the Lieutenant's cans alone if you knew what was good for you.

"Guess it beats going over field reports," he mused before lifting the drink to his lips for a swig of cola. There was always something extra satisfying in that first sip after the can was opened, the sting of it hitting the back of his throat followed by the cold numbing.

He'd be embarrassed about this goddamned crush (as Jill liked to call it) if other, more severe thoughts didn't override it.

She was clearly just joking but she really was struggling to think what they could be doing now. Between the outfit and hotel, nothing was making sense.

“I can grill you for once? Shocking. Uh…let’s see…”

Rose started at the new outfit, frown pulling at the corners of her mouth as she tried to study it for clues.

Was that car following them?

"You're stuck with me until tomorrow."

No, it was indicating to turn.

@houndwolfsquad

"Company in this case is high brass and government. Gotta make nice once in a while to keep on everyone's good side."