Well, this is a fine mess.

Albert Wesker, in his capacity as captain of the STARS Alpha team, often found himself burdened with the unenviable task of planning "team bonding" activities outside of the team's typical working hours. If it were up to him alone, he would have considered time spent training and on the range as a team to be sufficient, but he realized that his preferences were not necessarily reflective of the majority of the team.

As any good leader would do, Albert put the needs of the team above his own. After all, he needed a cohesive and well functioning team to collect the combat data he was interested in.

Team bonding usually consisted of the team parking up in their preferred bar and putting away drinks until a suspiciously sober Captain Wesker drove them home or loaded them into a taxi. He had chosen this bar for purely logistical reasons; it was cheap enough for the team, it was close enough that they could walk over from the police station, and he had the owner of the bar squarely under his thumb. One less thing for him to worry about, should something go wrong.

Unfortunately, this month, something did go wrong.

The bar was closed, rented out to a large group from Raccoon University, and Albert was now scrambling to figure out where they could go as a group. Usually he'd turn to Barry for something like this; Barry was reliable enough to suggest something or somewhere that was unlikely to end up with one of them in the RPD drunk tank.

In some cosmic twist of fate, the only person in the office when he figured out that an alternative was needed was Brad. Brad was cheaper than anyone he'd ever met and that came with some truly strange preferences, in Albert's opinion. But, his suggestion seemed alright, and it certainly met his first two criteria.

The first warning that maybe the place Brad recommended wasn't a great choice was Barry and Joseph excusing themselves from the outing.

The second warning was the decidedly unfriendly reception from the regulars at the bar, who were definitely a rougher crowd than he'd expected.

The only upside was the pool tables. After a single beer and what seemed like a respectable amount of small talk, Albert left to play a few games of pool with the few regulars who hadn't been staring daggers at the group since they arrived.

As he mopped the floor with the regulars, they slowly dispersed from the pool tables with a few grumbles, leaving Albert alone.

 Chris peeled off from Brad and Jill to join Wesker at the pool table. Chris was much less steady on his feet than normal, presumably more than a couple of beers deep now. The alcohol made his cheeks rosy, which enhanced his natural boyish good looks, and reminded Albert of the last time he'd managed to get Chris alone after the previous month's group outing.

Chris had looked phenomenal, his face hot with embarrassment in the dim lighting of his car.

Albert sighed; he could indulge in that memory some other time.

"S'going on, Cap?"

"I was considering having another game of pool. It seems the competition has disappeared, unfortunately."

Albert chalked his cue idly while Chris smiled at him, doe eyed and practically pleading.

It surprised him, and Albert was so rarely surprised now. He hadn't expected Chris to make eyes at him; Chris had been reluctant to spend any time in private with him since their last encounter, and he thought it inappropriate to try and probe further while they were at work.

Chris leaned in close to Albert and reached for the pool cue, resting a hand just above Albert's.

"You could play by yourself, Cap. Or are you looking for a second player?"

He looked Chris in the eye, trying to see if he was joking or making some sort of crude innuendo to embarrass him, but all he saw was shy interest.

"You are more than welcome to join me, but it seems that it might be a bit difficult in your current state."

And if you lean over this table, I'm going to struggle with doing anything other than admiring the line of your back.

Chris shrugged. "Heh, I'm fine Cap. I can take you. In pool. Anytime."

Albert chalked a second cue and passed it to Chris, who, true to his word, was actually fine at pool despite being obviously smashed. Chris put up a good fight, but Albert won, as he knew he would.

They ended up playing another few rounds of pool together, with more or less the same results, pausing only to say their goodbyes to Jill and Brad who promised they'd gotten a cab to get back home.

Shortly after the other Alpha team members left, Chris leaned toward Albert, not anywhere near as sly as he thought he was. His voice was low and husky with desire. "You wanna give me a ride home Cap? I can't afford the cab right now."

Oh Christopher, you don't need to lie to me to get in my car.

Albert sighed, trying to sound disappointed for anyone else listening. "Christopher, you know you need to keep an eye on your spending. I can drop you off at your apartment, but this is the last time I'm subsidizing your drinking."

Chris nodded, as if chastened, and put his cue away.

"I know. Sorry Cap, it's been a long month. I'm gonna hit the head, and I'll meet you out front."

Chris slunk away as Albert replaced his cue on the stand it came from and took his time resetting the table. The bar had slowly begun to fill up again, and he was glad for the excuse to leave.

When Albert returned with his car only a few minutes later, he was surprised not to see Chris out front. Even inebriated, this was not like Chris. The man may have been untidy, but he was punctual.

He flipped the hazard lights on his car, and stepped out to the sound of fighting and shouting coming from the alley behind the bar. One of the voices sounded distinctly like Chris. He began walking toward the alley, intending to assess the situation. It was premature to assume that the other man had managed to get into a fight in only a few minutes alone.

The shouting died down as two unfamiliar men ran out from the alley, panting and bruised. They glanced around and noticed him, causing them to both run off in opposite directions.

Rather than pursue them, Albert headed down the alley which reeked of piss and used cooking grease, the worst case scenarios briefly flitting through his head before he managed to clamp down on them. There was no point in reacting to scenarios, only in what was actually happening.

It was immediately obvious to him that Chris was injured, crumpled, and groaning on the damp, cold ground of the alley. He hadn't fared too badly considering his drunken state and being outnumbered.

Even as he was considering Chris' state, Albert felt a twinge of pride and affection for the man on the ground in front of him. There was clear evidence he'd drawn blood from one of his assailants, despite the poor odds. Chris may not have initiated the fight, but he likely ended it.

Past his analytical mind, Albert felt his body begin to react: his throat constricted uncomfortably and his pulse raced. Chris needed him now. He could review this later.

Albert carefully knelt on the ground next to Chris, quickly assessing the extent of his injuries. Thankfully, it seemed that the worst of the injuries were likely to be contusions or bruises; slow to heal and unsightly, but unlikely to be fatal.

"Christopher, can you hear me?"

There was a longer than normal pause before Chris reacted, rolling himself onto his back. "Yeah Cap. They gut punched me pretty good. I'm just winded, is all."

Albert held up his flashlight to examine Chris more closely. The other man's eyes adjusted to the light much more slowly than he'd expected, given the low light. Likely a concussion.

As he gingerly helped the other man off the ground and into his car, he realized Chris was more injured than he'd first appeared. Chris' balance was far more off than he would have expected, and his head lolled to the side at one point.

A more severe concussion was now a real concern for him. Albert knelt down next to Chris and secured him in the car. The other man's eyes were open and slowly following his hands as he worked. At least he was still conscious.

"Christopher, I need to get you home so I can monitor your concussion."

Silence.

He gently cupped Chris' chin and looked in his eyes. They were half closed, and his breathing shallow.

Fuck.

Lightly tapping the side of the other man's face, he attempted to address his own worst fears—that he would have to leave Chris with someone else. Someone likely far less competent and capable than him.

Albert wouldn't dream of letting someone else get their hands on Chris right now; his best man deserved his attention, and his alone.

"Christopher, respond."

Chris groaned and turned his head away from Albert's grasp. "Just wanna sleep Cap. 'M tired."

"Under no circumstances are you to fall asleep. Do you understand?"

Chris simply grunted in reply, head lolled back against the headrest.

"That is an order, Christopher."

"Acknowledged and understood, Cap."

Mollified, Albert stood and closed the passenger side door, before he hurriedly slung himself into the driver's seat and pulled away from the curb.

He kept an eye on Chris as they drove, ears pricked to the sound of his breathing and monitoring his position out of the corner of his eye. At this time of night, traffic would be light enough and lights timed well enough that the drive to his home would require little of his attention.

Thankfully, the drive was as boring as he had anticipated, but Chris' condition kept him on edge. He had to convince himself that Chris was still present. Still with him.

Still obedient to his captain.

"What started the fight?"

Albert saw Chris' head turn toward him, but there was a long pause before he replied.

"I bumped into them on my way out. They didn't think I was actually sorry. That's all it took."

He grunted in response. This city was rapidly wearing out its welcome for him; even the executive training facility had more charm than this miserable place.

Pulling into his driveway, Albert briefly looked over at Chris. He was struggling to sit up right and keep his eyes open. Of course his timing had been excellent, but he knew any deviation would have sent him into a quiet panic by now.

Albert quickly hauled the other man out of his car and up the small set of steps that led to his front door. Chris groaned quietly as Albert shifted him to unlock the front door and disable his security system; the other man was at least with it enough to balance himself, albeit poorly.

They slowly moved to the living room, where Chris practically collapsed onto the couch until the dim overhead lights were switched on. He shielded his eyes feebly with an arm until Albert moved it back to his side to examine him again. Squinting against the light, he smiled weakly as the other man clicked his pen light off, satisfied that Chris' concussion hadn't worsened noticeably.

"Cap, I thought maybe you were taking me back to my place."

Albert hesitated for a moment, head quirked to the side. He was unsure if that was a joke or an innuendo, but the idea did strike him as ludicrous.

"Please, as if I could appropriately care for you while surrounded by chaos and clutter, Chris. I'm not even sure you have a bed."

Chris' barking laugh sounded overly loud in his otherwise quiet home, but it wasn't an unwelcome sound. It meant he was in better shape than Albert had anticipated.

Never the less, Chris needed a careful, experienced eye to ensure his complete recovery, and Albert was more than happy to provide one. After carefully positioning the other man on the couch with ice packs and administering some pain killers, Albert allowed himself to relax on the opposite side of his large sectional, in perfect position to observe.

Everything was back under his control now, as it should be.

"You may doze off now, Chris, but I will be waking you periodically to ensure your condition hasn't worsened any."

Chris mumbled something that Albert could barely hear and then grunted.

The rest of the night was, despite his initial confidence, an exhausting vigil. Occasionally a snore or change in Chris' breathing drove Albert to rush across the room to check on him. It was, thankfully nothing, but he found himself in a rapidly worsening mood.

He shouldn't be this attached to the man, and despite himself, he was incapable of letting go, incapable of just letting things play out without his intervention.

After the fourth check, he had finally convinced himself that Chris must snore. He hadn't stuck around long enough last time to find out, and it certainly was not an enticing trait in a partner when trying to sleep in the same room.

Albert finally allowed himself to drift off, anxious energy finally completely depleted.

When he awoke the following morning, Chris was exactly where he left him. Completely still. Completely silent.

Scrambling across the room, he cupped Chris' face in his hand and opened one of his eyelids and then the other, shining the now indispensable penlight in. His pupils contracted as expected, and he felt the other man stirring under him.

"Fuck, Cap. That's a hell of a good morning."

The penlight was quickly placed back in his pocket, and he moved away quickly to school his expression. He couldn't let Chris see him like this. Not now, at least.

"Well, Christopher, you survived the night. I suspect you'll be fine."

Chris righted himself on the couch, letting out a prolonged groan as he did so.

"Yeah. I feel like you are never going to let me get over this though."