Author's Introduction:
No threats this time. No verbal ones, anyway…*scratches her head idly with the barrel of her S.T.A.R.S. Samurai Edge issue M92F* Nothing says "behave yourselves" like one of these…
I really want to thank everyone who reviewed Occam's Razor, my previous story. It's been a long time since I've written an RE fic, and it was nice to get so much positive feedback for it. I'm really glad everyone seemed to like it so much.
I guess you could say this story is along the same timeline, following the setup from Occam's Razor, but you don't have to have read that one to enjoy this one, I don't think.
Uncork the champagne, BSAA fans—I think I just scored myself a PS3 to come with me to my new apartment in June. And you all know what that means—Resident Evil 5 hiyoooooo!
**
Heart Makes a Fool Of Me
A Resident Evil/Biohazard fic by Firestar9mm
**
Forgive me for what I told you
My heart makes a fool of me
You know that I'll never hold you
I know that you gotta be free
Sail away, sweet sister
Sail across the sea
Maybe you'll find somebody who loves you half as much as me
My heart is always with you
No matter what you do
Sail away, sweet sister, I'll always be in love with you
(Queen, Sail Away Sweet Sister)
**
Despite the fact that the motorcycle jacket she wore everywhere advertised to people that she was Made In Heaven, Claire Redfield was definitely not a religious person.
Which was why when she clung to him and moaned, "Oh my god," Leon Kennedy knew he was doing something right.
One arm was braced behind her back, lifting her to take one breast as far into his mouth as he could. Claire threw her head back and shuddered as he fondled the neglected breast, feeling her nipple stiffen against his palm.
"Like that," Claire gasped, breath hitching as he tempered the urgent, almost desperate movements of his hand with a slow, sensual suckling of her nipple. "Please, baby, just like that…"
Leon closed his eyes, the better to taste her, to feel Strawberry Electric nails tangling in his hair, enjoying the little pain as she couldn't decide whether to hold him close or push him away from a place that was unbelievably sensitive. "Wait…oh, wait…"
He couldn't help but interrupt her with a rough kiss, nipping at her plush lower lip. "Can't wait any longer," he breathed, stroking his hands up her thighs possessively, sliding one leg up so he could settle between them, his hips against hers. Claire watched with heavy-lidded eyes, body arched in invitation, voice breathless. "Oh Leon, please, I want, I want…"
He silenced her with another kiss, letting her know he knew what she wanted by burying himself to the hilt inside her with more force than he'd ever allowed himself. Claire gave a short crying scream, nails raking down his back as her body constricted around him. He could barely hear her pleading harder, more, please over the blood roaring in his ears, over his own voice whispering urgently against her ear how tight she was, how wet, how hot, how good she felt. The small part of his brain that hadn't been overwhelmed by passion warned him how rough he was being with her, that she was bruising, and he was unable to heed its call.
Not that Claire appeared to be complaining—she was clutching and clawing at him, nails drawing blood on his back, stifling her scream of delight by biting his shoulder hard enough to bruise. Leon growled, caught off-guard as the small pain triggered his own climax. Claire wrapped herself around him, holding him tight as he surrendered with a fevered groan, shuddering in her arms with her name on his lips.
He could never seem to let go of her afterwards; even as his senses rebooted, he kept her close, hands gliding gently across her heated skin. Claire clung to him, snuggling up to him the way he loved. She mouthed the bruise on his shoulder gently with swollen lips. "Didn't mean to hurt you." She looked deliciously flushed and drowsy, eyes hazy beneath heavy lashes.
Leon soothed her with kisses, stroked her tangled tail of hair, which he'd asked her breathlessly not to take down as he'd carried her to the bed. "You didn't hurt me, angel wings."
"That was…incredible." Claire smiled, tracing an absent pattern on his chest with a fingertip. "You're always intense when you're about to go away—"
He smiled, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles. "Thank you."
She laughed. "—but you do remember I'll be with you all weekend, right? Speaking of which, we still have to pack the suitcases."
"It can wait," he murmured, winding her in his arms to discourage any thoughts of leaving the bed. "We have time."
Claire nuzzled him, pressing her lips to his. "I love you."
Leon buried his face in her hair, not wanting to think about packing anything or going anywhere. It was rare that he and Claire had time off together; he'd wanted to take her away for the weekend, someplace nice where they'd need a lot of sunscreen and very few articles of clothing. But he hadn't even had the chance to bring the idea up to Claire before her brother had called, and the conversation had ended with Chris suggesting they visit. Leon always had trouble saying no to Claire, especially when it came to her family, so he'd put his own plans aside.
It wasn't that Leon minded spending time with Chris Redfield, or the woman who'd become his curvier female shadow, Jill Valentine. They were both easy to like, and they'd never been anything but friendly and welcoming to him.
Of course, once they learned that Leon spent his nights burning up the sheets with Chris's baby sister, they might not be so friendly.
They were hardly keeping their relationship a secret. While Claire wasn't the sort to publicly display her affection, her subtle caresses made his whole day—her gentle hand on the back of his neck, the way she'd brush his hair from his eyes or smooth his eyebrow with a stroke of her thumb. He'd gotten used to all that, to finding a secluded place to press her back against the wall and steal a kiss.
But he had no idea how much she'd told her brother. He knew they spoke often—after their sibling smackdown against the Ashfords, Claire had made it a point to keep well in touch with her brother, and he seemed to have made the same decision—but Leon didn't ask too many questions, not wanting to pry. Claire gave no hints as to how much she discussed her life with Leon, or whether or not Chris knew exactly how close they were.
Claire sighed, cuddling against him, and he stroked her bangs away from her closed eyes, brushed his knuckles across her cheek. They hadn't visited her brother since long before they'd started sharing a bed. Now the idea of spending an entire long weekend in the same house with Claire and not be able to kiss her, stroke her, sleep beside her at night, sounded worse than any torture he'd been threatened with on his most dangerous assignments.
It wasn't that he was afraid of Chris's reaction to such news, although there was a chance that the elder Redfield might not take it well. Claire was a big girl and more than capable of making her own decisions, whether her brother liked it or not. But it wasn't his place to say or do anything that might create tension between Claire and Chris; the decision to reveal their relationship would ultimately have to be hers.
He was probably worrying for nothing, he reasoned. He and Claire had lived together for three years. It was true that their relationship hadn't gotten more intimate until recently, but surely people had wondered about them.
So why couldn't he figure out a diplomatic way to discuss all this with Claire?
He sighed. He'd just have to ask her point-blank. How much does your brother know about us?
"Claire," he said, stroking her tail of hair. "Can I ask you something?"
Soft breathing answered him. Claire's arm was locked across him, leg entwined with his, ear pressed against his chest, just over his heart.
"Claire?"
He had to smile. Somewhere in the middle of his internal monologue, she'd fallen asleep. Glancing across the room at the suitcases, which were waiting patiently by the door, he decided it wouldn't kill him to get up early tomorrow and pack. He had no desire to get out of bed—too far away from her.
"Love you," he whispered, wrapping his arms protectively around her and vowing to enjoy the last night this week he could sleep with her cuddled close like this.
**
"I always said you had a great rack." Chris Redfield grinned cheekily at Jill Valentine, whose eyes slitted dangerously over the table as she lifted the triangle from the billiard balls.
"One of these days I'll beat you," she declared, shaking her slinky bright bob away from her face. "To death."
"Watch out, Redfield. I think she means it," Leon chuckled, sharpening his cue stick.
The bar was called Backdraft, and it hit the trifecta of the perfect dive bar—it was within stumbling distance of the condo Chris and Jill shared, it had a pool table, and after a certain hour the owners let you smoke inside. Chris was always teasing that one day he'd get Jill on the mechanical bull in the back, which always had a crowd amassed around it. Jill's response was always the same—"Once upon your dead body, Redfield—come on, why don't you buy me a beer?" Chris never said no.
Claire was at the jukebox, naturally, having armed herself with enough money to ensure that she'd hear whatever she wanted for the next two hours. Her shirt, a grey affair with a small broken-heart graphic over her own heart that was printed much larger across her back, was riding up a little. The words Too Much Love Will Kill You Every Time stretched across the bottom hem, calling attention to the strip of skin beneath shirt and jeans.
Leon smiled at her face haloed in the light from the machine, wishing he could circle his arms around her from behind and steal a kiss the way he did when she was drifting between radio stations at home. But Claire had been very careful not to touch him all day; she'd been perfectly affectionate, even flirty, but no more than she'd ever been with him. It wasn't that he'd expected her to just sit everyone down and come out with a big speech, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed.
Leon leaned against the machine, catching her eye. "Play me something."
Her smile was secretive, ponytail waving as she considered the tracks available for play. "What are you in the mood for?"
What he was in the mood for couldn't be done in front of her brother and Jill, much less in a bar full of people. "You choose. Play me a song."
"'Dirty White Boy' it is, then," Claire said, and he snickered. But she slid a coin into the slot and scanned the lists of songs like she was on a mission, eyes like steely radar. Angling her body to shield her choice from him, she punched a button, and the machine whirred as the CD changed, Def Leppard singing "Hysteria" to the bar and its patrons.
Leon stayed beside her while she chose the rest of her playlist, pleased with her selection for him.
"You two going to play, or what? Jill could use a little help," Chris called from the pool table.
"Shut up, Redfield," Jill snorted, but it didn't help her case that she immediately scratched after saying it. "Damn it."
Claire selected a cue stick with the same care she chose songs at the jukebox, weighing each cue in her hands and taking practice shots at thin air.
"Either you take Claire or I will," Jill said to Leon. "We can't have them both on one team. They'll crush us. Chris taught Claire how to shoot pool when she was eleven."
Claire snorted, elbowing her brother. "Busted."
"You can have Claire," Chris declared. "Me and Kennedy will still crush you. In fact, we'll go easy on them, right, Kennedy?"
"We'll be as gentle as lambs," Leon agreed, smirking.
Claire displayed her fist, flicking up a cigarette in place of her middle finger. Jill snickered, tossing a lock of blonde hair off her face and resetting the billiard balls.
"All right, big brother. Let's see which of us is better at handling a long hard shaft and a couple of balls," Claire said, eyes steely with challenge.
"You're a whore," Chris said affectionately, chalking his cue.
When it came to playing pool with the Redfields, Leon had long since accepted the fact that he and Jill were simply outclassed. He was only as good as his worst bar sport, which was darts. Actually, Claire and Jill were both better at darts than Leon or Chris, which Jill never tired of teasing the R.P.D.'s best marksman about. Leon's real talent was foosball. Claire was decidedly less skilled at that game, her haphazard attempts to coordinate her side of the table a constant source of amusement, especially when she started yelling at her "team", berating the little wooden soccer players as if they were the greatest disappointment of her life. When she'd screamed at them that they were so lucky this was soccer and not basketball, or else she'd go Bobby Knight, Leon had laughed so hard that she was able use his momentary distraction to score the only goal she'd managed that game.
Leon almost wished they weren't playing doubles tonight. In his opinion, it was way more interesting to watch the siblings play against each other. They made it look so easy. Leon could easily imagine the two of them in some noir bar of the past, sleepy-eyed as their victims didn't even see the hustle coming.
Jill wasn't as bad a player as Chris wanted everyone to believe. If she'd concentrated more on her game and less on trying to psych Chris out, she would have been a formidable opponent. Claire didn't seem to mind, placidly sinking her shots with a practiced hand.
"You'll never make that one," Jill declared, watching Chris angle his cue for a trick shot.
The elder Redfield's eyes gleamed. "What do I get if I do?"
Jill put her cue to one side, bracing both hands on the table and leaning over the center pocket, cleavage a tempting distraction from the matter at hand, framed nicely by a tight dark v-neck shirt that yawned like the jaws of hell. "You're a scorpion woman," Chris chuckled, shutting one eye to sight his target. "How about if I sink this, I get a kiss?"
"If you sink that you deserve a kiss," Jill laughed.
Leon and Claire exchanged amused glances. Jill was undoubtedly aware that Chris would have no problem acing the difficult shot; she was fully prepared to pay the penalty—such as it was.
The cue ball jumped a stripe and the three ball clattered into the pocket; Chris grinned triumphantly. "Score. Pay up, Valentine."
Jill rolled her lips under and out as though she were smoothing lipstick, circling the pool table to loop her arms around Chris's neck. Claire made a big show out of pretending to yawn, and Leon smiled, politely averting his eyes.
"More," Chris murmured, hooking one hand into the waist of Jill's miniskirt to hold her in place, fingers sliding over the strip of skin where her shirt rode up over her belly, his shut-eyed smile telling her he had her right where he wanted her.
Jill laughed softly, obeying, then shrugging him off, tossing her bright hair out of her eyes. "Come on. You only made one shot, you only get one kiss. Besides, I think we're embarrassing the kids."
Leon snorted at being referred to as a "kid", sending his next ball sharply to its pocket. "Kid this, Valentine."
"Ouch," Jill purred. "Touchy tonight, Kennedy?"
Not so much touchy as frustrated, Leon wanted to tell her. Judging by their behavior, which was the same as any night, he was pretty sure neither of them knew about him and Claire. Which was fine if that was how Claire wanted to play it, but it was getting increasingly difficult to pretend they were still just friends, analyzing his every word or movement—especially when Chris and Jill seemed to be flirting more than usual tonight.
"Where's the scratch pad?" Claire asked, and Jill slid it to her.
"What do I get if I miss this shot?" Jill teased, lining up the cue ball.
"No prizes for missing them," Leon said, searching in his jacket pocket for his Zippo. "You miss too many of them."
Jill chuckled, flipping him off. Glancing at Claire, she added, "Let me know when you're done with that scratch pad."
Reflexively, Leon's own gaze flicked to Claire, and he nearly swallowed his cigarette.
Claire's own cigarette was dangling from fuchsia lips, haloing her with smoke as she worked the cue with the scratch pad. As soon as she saw she'd caught his eye, she redoubled her efforts, hand gripping, twisting, contracting in a way he knew all too well. His chest tightened, body stirring as his mind supplied unhelpful sensory memories of those hands on him that same way, stroking and teasing him till he ached, sweet little mouth on his promising that soon he'd be soothed inside her. Claire seemed to know what he was thinking; one gunmetal eye closed in a wink, promising him her full attention if only he had her alone—
"You gonna light that?" Chris chuckled, holding his own Zippo up to Leon's cigarette, lighting it. "Pay attention, Kennedy. The girls are catching up."
"Give me that." Jill took the scratch pad from Claire. "You and that thing should get a room."
Claire snickered, blowing sawdust from her cue through fuchsia lips.
Forcing himself to concentrate on the game and not on the sensory memory of that hand, those lips on his anatomy, Leon let the world narrow down, sighting down his cue to line up his next shot. The cue ball slammed down the corner pocket after the five ball.
"You're so hard," Claire murmured.
He glanced up at her twinkling eyes. "What?"
"I said, too hard, you hit that way too hard," she said, lips curving into a smile.
He had to smirk at her, shaking his head. "Tease."
Claire laughed and circled the table to retrieve the cue ball.
"Joke's on you, baby sister. He left you with nothing," Chris said. "You'll have to bank it. And everyone knows you flunked geometry."
Claire snorted around her cigarette. "Twice."
Jill examined the table. "Come on, Claire. Show your brother who got all the talent in the family."
"Chris has talent, it just involves sucking beer out of a funnel and a plastic hose," Claire teased.
Chris pointed a forefinger at Claire like a pistol. "If you're talking about vacation four years ago, let's not forget who won the wet t-shirt contest at Off the Wagon."
Leon tried not to look up too fast.
"I deserved to win that contest," Claire said airily, ponytail waving, hips swaying as she circled the table like a lazy shark. "And I remember a certain big brother who drank for free the rest of that night on the cheap-shot excuse of shared DNA."
"You actually let her enter a wet t-shirt contest?" Leon asked Chris.
"Encouraged," Claire corrected. "He encouraged me to enter."
"There was a possibility for free beer," Chris said defensively. "It wasn't like I could enter myself, so Claire had to take one for the team."
Jill snorted out a laugh. "Take one for the team?"
Leon arched a blond brow at Claire. "So if anyone ever manages to find their way to this bar, will they see a picture of you in a wet t-shirt on the wall of fame?"
"They might." Claire winked an eye, then kept it closed to sight down her cue for her next shot.
Jill smiled silkily at Leon. "You sound awfully curious."
"Just don't want to get blindsided on my way to the men's room," Leon said, smiling beatifically at the two women.
Claire chuckled. "Bastard. It's above the bar."
"So there is a picture," Leon concluded, grinning.
Claire straightened up, flicking cigarette ash at him. "Bastard!"
Chris laughed aloud, then the older man elbowed the younger one. "Hey Kennedy. What does Claire get if she makes this shot?"
Leon just smiled. "Anything she wants."
Jill's eyes lit up. "High stakes."
Claire returned to sighting down her cue. "If I make this, he can play me a song on the jukebox."
"That's all? You aren't any fun at all," Jill drawled, snagging a beer from a passing waitress's tray.
Leon arched a blond brow. Claire had given him a nice save, an easy way out. In truth, he'd sort of been hoping she'd force her brother's hand at some point.
He almost chuckled at his own thoughts. Working for the government had him likening even the simplest events to grandiose espionage.
Closing one eye, Claire banked the cue ball off the bumper and sliced the eight ball into the eleven ball, giving the stripe just enough momentum to drop. The eight ball teetered precariously near the pocket, but didn't fall.
Chris whistled. "Nice shot. Pay up, Kennedy."
Claire straightened up, bouncing a little, proud of her skill. "Why don't you play me—"
"I'll choose," Leon interrupted, heading to the jukebox. He already knew what he wanted to play for her.
"I made the shot, I should get to choose!" Claire called after him.
Piano music followed Leon back to the table once he'd made his selection.
"The Rolling Stones?" Chris asked, eyes twinkling. "I thought for sure you'd play her 'Killer Queen'."
"Nah. This girl's a rainbow," Leon said, indicating Claire with a tilt of his head. That redhead beamed with her approval of his choice, giving a little spin, ponytail swinging.
**
There was a small alcove by the coat check. As Claire walked past with a new round of beers from the bar, Leon intercepted her, carefully disengaging her fingers from the bottle necks and placing them on the shelf that ran the length of the wall. Pulling her against his chest, he slipped into the alcove, out of sight of the rest of the bar's patrons.
Claire made a small sound of surprise as Leon pressed her back into the wall, closing his lips fiercely over hers. The taste of her kiss was balm on a wound; he almost purred in contentment.
Laughing softly, Claire broke the kiss gently. "Leon," she giggled. "Don't. Someone will see."
"I'll see," he muttered, tightening his embrace.
"We can't," she laughed, but she'd ceased struggling. "I don't—"
"You will." He bent his head to hers, speaking almost against her mouth. "Kiss me."
Claire surrendered with a soft whimper, lips parting eagerly beneath his. "They'll come looking for us."
"Let them."
"Wait…" She pushed a little harder at him now. "Not now, not like this—"
"Not like what?" He hadn't meant to roar it, hadn't meant to fling her hands away from him in his exasperation as he moved to lean against the opposite wall. He could tell immediately that he'd startled her; her eyes were wide and confused.
"Is there something you want to tell me?" she asked, cream-soda voice darkening with severity.
Leon couldn't believe his ears. "Me? No. Is there something you want to tell me? I can already tell there's something you don't want to tell your brother."
Claire's nostrils flared, a sure sign that her temper was rising. Unconsciously, her feet spread to anchor her and she dropped her weight back to her heels. Even when the only weapons were words, she was ready to grapple, whether she realized it or not. "Is that why you're angry?" she asked.
"I'm not angry. I just want to know why, when your brother's around, you act like I have a communicable disease."
Claire's brows met over her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest, forcing her breasts higher. "That's not fair."
"I know it isn't fair. But what do you want me to say? I can't pretend this isn't bothering me."
To give Claire credit, she blushed, looking uncomfortable. "I don't want to you to pretend anything," she murmured softly, letting her arms drop. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm going to tell them, just not…"
"I get it, not now," Leon cut in. "When, Claire?"
Her nostrils flared again; she was exasperated and trying to bite down on it. "I just don't want them to find out like that, like—like we're two teenagers kissing in a broom closet."
"Is that why you're not telling your brother about us?" Leon asked, running a hand through his hair. "Because you're embarrassed?"
"No," Claire said immediately. "I am not embarrassed about you, never."
Leon looked away, sighing.
Claire's expression softened, her stormsky eyes full of love. "C'mere," she murmured, reaching for him, hands clasping around his neck to pull him close to her.
"Listen to me," she said, her voice just above a whisper. "I love you. And I want everyone to know it."
"Then why are we letting Starsky and Hutch out there dance us around the ballroom?" Leon frowned, unable to help it.
Claire sighed, sliding her hands down his chest. "You hear my brother. He shoots from the hip with sarcastic comments. He's gotten so good at it that half the time he doesn't even know he's doing it anymore."
"So?" Leon challenged. "It doesn't bother me. I'd rather he think it was funny then get upset about it. Don't you?"
Claire blushed, and she dropped her gaze to her hands, fanning her fingers gently over his heart. "It's just…I…" She rolled her lips under, then finished shyly, "He still treats me like I'm a teenager sometimes. I'm afraid if I tell him about you and me, he'll just laugh at me like I'm some high school girl with a crush. And…" She looked bashfully up through her lashes at him. "And you're not a crush. You're…"
Despite the fact that her face was bright with a blush, she met his eyes bravely as she continued, just above a whisper, "I've never felt like this about anyone before."
Leon felt his anger ebbing away. Sighing, he pulled her head down to his shoulder, stroking her bangs away from her eyes. "Claire."
"I love you," she repeated, closing her eyes and tightening her embrace. "I'm crazy about you. And when I tell my brother about us, I want him to know just how serious I am about you." She sighed. "I just haven't figured out how to do it. And you have every right to lose your patience with me, but I'm just…I…"
Her eyes were shining as she lifted her head to meet his gaze once more. "I'm so afraid. Afraid you will lose your patience, that I'll…screw this up. That something else will screw it up. And I…"
Tipping her chin up, Leon touched his lips tenderly to hers, cutting her off. "I love you. I'm not going anywhere."
She leaned against him, closing her eyes. "Promise?"
"Promise." He played idly with her tail of hair. "One more kiss. To hold me over."
Smiling up at him, she promised, "I'll make this up to you," before locking her lips fiercely to his.
**
"Haven't you had enough?" Claire asked affectionately as her brother rummaged in the fridge for a beer.
"I have never had enough," Chris answered, baring his teeth at the bottle he held.
Reading his mind, Jill quickly walked across the kitchen to the fridge. A magnet that doubled as a bottle opener was holding a picture to the door; Jill let the picture fall and handed the magnet to Chris. "Not with your teeth, for God's sake. You're the only man I know who needs one for the road in his own house."
Grinning, Chris accepted the bottle opener, lunging towards Jill with the speed of a striking snake to kiss her neck. Jill spun gracefully out of his reach, swatting at him. "Down, boy. Why can't you be normal, like Leon?"
Claire smirked. "If you call waking up in the middle of the night and cooking normal."
Leon smiled beatifically at her. "Oh come on, an—"
He stopped midsentence, teeth clicking as he realized a nickname like "angel wings" might not be the best thing to let slip if Claire was still trying to come up with a diplomatic way to reveal their relationship. Although it was probably too late to avoid suspicion, he simply finished with, "Don't listen to her. I never hear her complaining when she's sitting at the kitchen table eating chicken cutlets at four A.M."
Claire giggled and surprised him with a nickname of her own. "Nobody makes them like you, Slim." She'd often call Leon by nicknames at home, but never in front of her brother. He wondered if their earlier disagreement had shamed her into action.
Leon's attention was diverted to the picture that had been affixed to the fridge by the bottle opener magnet. Leaning down to pick it up from the floor, he realized it was a picture of himself and Claire from the last time they had visited. They weren't looking at the camera—it looked like it was being taken from across the kitchen; he recognized the wall clock. Claire was laughing, sitting on the counter just like she did at home, and he was grinning at her. They'd probably been teasing each other. Leon remembered those days, when the sexual tension between them felt like it had weight, when she'd been so close and yet seemingly so far out of his reach.
"What's this?" Leon asked, running his fingertips gently over Claire's image, unable to help himself. He gave the picture one more affectionate look before sliding it across the table towards Chris and Jill. Claire watched with interest, tilting her head to see the photo.
Chris smiled, twisting in his chair to press the picture against the fridge once more, slapping the magnet back onto it. "Family photo."
Claire hid a smile, and Leon felt her ankle press against his beneath the table.
"Who took that picture, anyway?" Claire asked. "I don't remember."
"I did," Jill said. "We never see you guys, and we don't have any recent pictures of you, so I snapped that one the last time you were here." Arching a blonde brow, she added smoothly, "Maybe we can take a better one while you guys are here."
Claire's smile was bulletproof. "That sounds nice. It's too bad we can't get one of the four of us…" Her lashes drooped and her nostrils flared, but this time, it wasn't a sign of rage—she was biting down on a yawn.
"You look exhausted, baby sister," Chris said, finishing off his beer. "Why don't you go to sleep?"
"Maybe," Claire said, covering her mouth and letting the yawn come. "Let me just get my gun."
"Which one did you bring?" Chris asked.
Leon almost laughed. It was never a question that everyone in the apartment was armed, never a question that Leon and Claire brought weapons when they came to visit. It was just a question of which weapons they were.
"Bet it's the Browning," Jill said, eyes twinkling. "Some kids have security blankets—Claire has a Browning."
Claire smiled sweetly. "That Browning saved my life more times than I can even count. That gun has never let me down—you can bet it's my blankie." Catching Leon's eye, she added, "I love that gun."
As was her habit, she was speaking in code. Leon wasn't sure if Chris and Jill knew where she'd gotten the Browning Hi-Power nine millimeter that she carried almost constantly, but he certainly remembered where she'd gotten it—out of the glove compartment of a Raccoon City police car. He'd told her to take it with her as they'd sped through the streets towards the precinct, and she'd chambered a round and hadn't let go of it since. Hell, she slept with the Browning—it was in her nightstand, on her side of their bed, just like his Sig Sauer slept in the nearly identical nightstand on his side.
"How you feel about that Browning is how I feel about my Desert Eagle," Chris said. "You've had it forever and nothing's ever going to take its place."
"Nothing could," Claire agreed warmly. "I love the Browning." I love you.
Leon hated that the conversation wasn't giving him a way to say I love you, too.
"Guest room's all set up for you," Jill said. "Let us know if you need anything."
"What about you, Kennedy?" Chris asked. "Calling it a night?"
Leon's mind raced as he weighed his options. If he asked where he was sleeping, he could gauge how much Chris and Jill knew. But he'd slept on the sofa every time he'd stayed here in the past. There wouldn't be a need to ask; doing that would tip his hand, not theirs.
Claire circled the table, putting her arms about her brother's neck and kissing his cheek. Walking behind Jill's chair, she cutely dropped a kiss on the crown of the older woman's head. Jill giggled. "'Night, Claire."
"What about Leon?" Chris asked. "Doesn't he get a good-night kiss?"
Leon arched a brow at the elder Redfield, but both his and Jill's attention were on Claire.
Claire stopped and put her hands on her hips. She glared at her brother and Jill from sleepy eyes, her ponytail waving like a striking snake as she drew herself up. "You know," she accused suddenly. "You know, don't you?"
Jill was the first to crack, collapsing into giggles. "Busted."
"We're so busted," Chris agreed, shaking his head. "I knew we were busted back at the pool hall, I was just waiting for one of them to crack."
"I hate you." Claire dropped back to sit in her chair. "I don't believe this. I've been stressing myself out like crazy trying to come up with a tactful way to tell you something you already know? My nerves are shot to ribbons—"
That was it for Leon. "Your nerves are shot to ribbons?" he asked, turning to Claire.
Claire blinked, as if she'd forgotten that he was in the room.
Chris and Jill began laughing again, and Claire reiterated her hatred of them. Leon shook his head. "Unbelievable."
"You guys suck so hard," Claire said. "How long were you going to keep teasing us?"
"As long as you were going to keep not telling," Jill snickered. "I know we don't see each other that often, Claire, but did you think we wouldn't catch on?"
Struck by a sudden thought, Leon pointed a forefinger at Jill. "How could you catch on? Not for anything, but the last time we visited, there was nothing to catch on to."
"Bullshit." Chris grinned, glancing at the picture on the fridge. "There was plenty to catch on to. It was just a question of time. Speaking of time, Claire, how long as this been going on?"
It was rare to see Claire Redfield blush, but when she did, it was a pretty sight, even borne on a wave of obvious discomfort like it was now. "Since we moved to Miami."
Jill smacked a fist down on the table. "Wahoo. Pay up, Redfield."
Leon covered his eyes as Chris dug into the pockets of his jeans. Coming up with a wad of cash, he began to count bills into Jill's outstretched hand. "Forty…sixty…eighty…one hundred. God damn it. I thought for sure it'd be before that."
"Maybe Leon and Claire aren't voracious animals like you." Jill took the money.
Claire had dropped back into her chair, looking sad and confused. Turning in his own chair, Leon brushed his knuckles against her arm. "Angel wings? You all right?"
Claire shook her head slowly, no. But instead of answering Leon, she turned hurt eyes to her brother. "So you figured me out. Again." Her words were harsh, but her voice was uncharacteristically flat and defeated as she added, "Congratulations, supercop."
Chris arched a dark brow. "What's the matter, babygirl? I couldn't be happier for you two. This is terrific news."
"It is terrific news," Claire murmured, staring into a middle distance. She swung her suddenly empty gaze to the air over Chris's shoulder, only giving the illusion that she was speaking to him while staring out into space. "It was supposed to be my news. But you figured it out and you know."
Chris glanced to Jill, who gave a helpless little shrug. Leon was watching Claire—he was starting to figure out a few things of his own.
Chris chuckled softly. "Come on, Claire. It was obvious that there was something between you two…" he trailed off. "Like I said, it was just a question of time. It wasn't that hard to figure out."
"It was hard for me," Claire burst out, rising from her chair on the force of her emotion. "You don't even know what I've been through—chasing, searching, losing, finding, you don't even know…"
Leon wanted to go to her. It took all his strength not to reach for her hand and curl his fingers around hers, but he knew now was not the time. Later, when they were alone, she'd let herself collapse against him and hide her tears in his shoulder, whisper every little hurt in his ear, but this was going a hell of a lot deeper than the fact that he and Claire were dating. This was years of pent-up frustration with the man who'd set the bar so high not only for every subsequent male Claire ever came into contact with, but for Claire herself.
"Of course I don't know, babygirl," Chris said gently. "You didn't tell me."
"But you guessed anyway," Claire said, eyes wet. "You're just too good, big brother. You've outsmarted me again. Here I am worrying about how to tell you that my best friend, my roommate and my lover are all the same person without you teasing me about it or losing your temper, and you're just laughing about it and talking about how obvious it all was."
"Would you rather I get angry?" Chris chuckled incredulously.
Claire's brows dropped over hurt gunmetal eyes. "I knew it. I knew you wouldn't understand." She turned on her heel and started to leave the room, but just as she reached the doorway, she spun again.
"This was mine," she said, her voice soft and bewildered with pent-up pain. "It was all mine. Someone likes Claire, someone cares about Claire, not just 'Chris's little sister'.And it may not seem like a big deal to you, but it's important to me, he's more important to me than anything in the world. And all I wanted was for you to see that—for you to see how serious this is. But you can't." Claire sighed, running a hand through her bangs. "Big brother…I am so disappointed in you." She seemed to fold up, like a flower at night, all the earlier energy of her outburst ebbing away. "Good night." Turning again, she left the room.
Jill arched blonde brows. "I'm going to keep drinking," she announced, taking a quick, nervous swig of her beer.
Leon ran a hand through his hair. "This is my fault."
"How is it your fault that I'm an insensitive asshole?" Chris asked, taking Jill's beer.
Leon half smiled, but quickly grew serious again as he explained. "I shouldn't have pushed her so hard to tell you. We argued about it earlier because I thought she was ashamed of it, ashamed of…us, I guess." He shrugged. "Guess we're both insensitive assholes."
"Can you go talk to her?" Chris asked, sensing where this was heading. "Maybe you can get her to make some sense."
"Of course I'm going to talk to her. But I think you should go first." Leon took a pull from his beer.
Jill hid a smile. Chris frowned.
"I vote you go talk to her, too," Jill said.
"Oh, so this is a democratic group of bioterrorism survivors, is it?" Chris muttered sulkily, frowning at his partner. "Whose side are you on?"
Jill looked briefly guilty. "Maybe…hers." At Chris's surprised look, she added, "I owe her an apology, too, just as much as you two do. She'll never actually come out and say it, but I think we hurt her feelings." She leaned across the table, pressing a kiss to Chris's temple. "Come on, Redfield. She's not scary, she doesn't have fangs or claws or acid for blood. Go talk to her. I promise you'll come back alive."
Chris pouted, the expression looking comical on the big man; Jill had to hide her smile as he left the room.
Leon and Jill drank their beer in silence for another minute or two, then Jill rolled her lips under nervously, putting her bottle down on the table.
"I suppose now would be a bad time to mention that Chris and I also have a bet on your wedding date?"
Despite everything, Leon had to laugh. "Are you two even the slightest bit worried that there may be a hell?"
The fallen S.T.A.R. and the lone survivor of the R.P.D. shared a smile.
**
Claire was in the guest bedroom, smoking a cigarette out the open window. She didn't look at her brother as he entered the room, but she didn't immediately throw him out, either. Chris figured that was a good sign. "Hi, Red," he said gently. "Still hate me?"
Sighing in exasperation, Claire turned to look at him finally. "I could never hate you. I'm just mad at you right now." Clutching her forehead as though she had a headache, she shook her head. "You always go to extremes. Everything isn't as black and white as you want it to be."
Wondering how he'd ended up with a younger sibling more farsighted than he was, Chris stopped advancing towards the window and leaned against the wall. "Can't help it, Claire. Extremes are just easier for me."
Stubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray on the windowsill, Claire treated him to an affectionate look. "I wish I could give you a fairer world."
Neither spoke for a few minutes, and then Chris shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed. "Claire, I didn't mean to upset you."
She closed her eyes, long lashes dark crescents on her cheek. "I know that. Don't you think I know that?" Taking a step towards him, she continued, "But you did. And you don't even know why. That's what's killing me, Chris—you don't even know why you're apologizing."
"I'm apologizing because I don't want you to be angry with me," Chris said. "Isn't that a good enough reason, or is it too black and white for you?"
Claire frowned. "You're missing the point."
"So tell me what the point is," Chris said, throwing his hands up in a defeated shrug. "I'm not a mind reader, Claire. I'm not as smart as you are."
"Oh, stop it," Claire interjected, but Chris ignored her.
"I can't read your mind, Claire," he repeated. "I know I should probably know why you're upset, but I think it's pretty obvious that I can't see past my own nose, so you're going to have to fill me in."
Claire snorted. "You're just feeling sorry for yourself now."
Chris's eyes narrowed, then he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, sitting down on the bed with his forearm braced against his knee. "Yeah, maybe a little." He stared down at his hands for a second, then raised his gaze to hers. "Claire, I miss you. I hardly ever see you, and there's way too much going on in all our lives to fit it all into an hour-long phone call every two weeks. I already knew that when the next big thing happened to you, I was going to miss it…" He ran a hand through his hair. "You used to tell me everything, Claire. Now I have to play guessing games and try to gauge your tone of voice on the phone to even attempt to figure out what's going on with you."
Claire wound both her arms around one of her brother's and rested her cheek against his shoulder, a favorite embrace of hers. "The first time I ever sneaked out of the house, it was with you. The first time I ever drank when I was underage, it was with you. The first motorcycle I ever rode was yours, hanging on to you for dear life. I called you to let you know I'd been accepted to college. I told you about the first time I smoked and the first time I ever parked anywhere with a boy."
Chris cringed playfully. "I just about cried when you told me that…"
Claire didn't laugh. "Don't you know how sad it made me to feel like I couldn't tell my big brother the best secret I've ever had?" she asked, pulling away to look him in the eye.
Claire had left her cigarettes on the bed. Chris fumbled for the pack and lit one, lighting one for Claire off the end of his own and handing it to her. She accepted, smoke trickling from her pursed lips. They sat side by side in companionable silence for a few minutes, their cigarettes haloing them in smoke.
"So," Chris said with a little smile, "Kennedy finally realized how amazing you are, hm?"
Claire blushed, looking down at her lap. "Something like that."
"It's about time," Chris said. "I was beginning to think he'd never wake up. Or you wouldn't."
Claire gave him a rueful smile.
The elder Redfield took a slow drag on his cigarette. "He being good to you?"
"Always," Claire said, her voice warm. "If you could only see."
Chris nodded, pleased with the depth of feeling in her voice. "Good. You being good to him?"
Claire smiled, just a little. "Yes," she replied, much softer, as if she were shy to let her brother know just how good she and Leon were to each other.
"You're happy?"
"I've never been happier." Again the warmth bled into her voice, flaring like the end of her cigarette; her eyes slid to a contented half-mast as she inhaled.
"That's what I want to hear." He gave her a friendly nudge with his shoulder. "Now, was that so hard? You and Kennedy have a relationship, and you're happy. Feel better now that you've unburdened your big secret?"
Claire's eyes twinkled. "That wasn't the secret, big brother." Leaning close, she cupped her hands around his ear to whisper to him.
Chris pulled back, an impressed look on his face. "Get out of here," he said, a grin breaking out on his face. "Really?"
**
Leon placed an ace down on the table, easily beating Jill's jack. She was losing badly, but it wasn't her fault—War was hardly a game of skill.
Jill's attention was diverted anyway—she kept glancing towards the back of the condo. "It's quiet. Way too quiet," she said, flipping over a queen.
Leon flipped a four, and the game continued in silence until he came to a realization.
"Maybe she killed him."
Jill almost choked on her beer as she burst out laughing and let go of her deck. "You are so too much."
As if on cue, Chris came into the kitchen with Claire on his back, a look of playful anguish on his face. "Are we through being nostalgic for our childhood yet? I think I've worked through my guilt now."
Claire nudged him with her heel as though she were wearing spurs. "Come on, big brother, I thought you were supposed to be a super soldier. You were this great legendary thing. Don't tell me one piggyback ride has got you tired."
"Get off me before my spine telescopes," was Chris's teasing response as he deposited her gently on the kitchen floor. "Kennedy, take over."
Hearing the request and seeing Claire's smile was enough to assuage every discomfort Leon had had about this weekend. "With pleasure. I was getting tired of kicking Jill's ass at cards anyway."
"Listen, Kennedy, no one ever told you this because we didn't want to hurt your feelings, but you have a big nose," Jill said airily, collecting the cards and shuffling them.
Claire tugged on Leon's hands. "Come on, Slim, come tuck me in."
"With pleasure," Leon repeated. Rather than let Claire lead him by the hands, he swept her neatly into the standard threshold position, turning towards Chris. "With your blessing, of course."
Chris smirked. "Consider yourselves blessed, but if you decide to get frisky, keep it down. The guest room's right next to ours."
Claire flipped her brother off from Leon's arms. "Hating on you."
"We looooooove youuuuu," Jill sang, then smirked at her partner. "Should we follow their lead?"
"Sure," Chris said, killing Jill's beer. "Come on, Jilly, carry me to bed."
She socked him in the shoulder; Claire and Leon heard his exclamation of pain all the way down the hall.
**
Sighing, Chris pressed the light switch on the kitchen wall, dimming everything except the lights over the counter. Jill hooked her chin over his shoulder as he lit up another cigarette at the sink. "See? I told you everything would work out."
Chris smiled. "What can I say? You're always right."
She nipped at his shoulder playfully. "What'd she say to you?"
Chris took a drag, shaking his head in mild surprise. "Still can't believe it."
"What? What'd she say?" Jill pressed, poking him in the side.
Chris turned at the sink, leaning back against the counter as he inhaled again. Raising his eyebrows, he smiled at Jill. "She told me she's in love with him."
Jill lit up, eyes brightening as though someone had touched a match to them. "I don't think I've ever heard your sister say she loved something that didn't have a trigger or a gear shift before."
"She hasn't," Chris agreed, putting out his cigarette in the drain trap. "Not until now."
Jill smiled lovingly at her partner, reaching up to cup his cheek in her hand. "Hey. You okay?"
He turned his head to kiss her palm. "It's weird. Sometimes I still feel like she's in junior high, but she's not. She's all grown up and a better shot than me and…in love." He smiled, a little sadly. "I feel like I'm giving her away."
Jill slid her arms around him. "You know when that day finally comes, her first dance will be with you." Pressing her lips to his, she added, "Save the rest for me."
**
Despite her not being the most emotionally forthcoming person in the world, there were lots of ways that Claire let Leon know she loved him. Allowing him to carry her was one of them. In the field, Claire would limp, struggle, crawl and drag herself as far as she needed to go to survive, not caring if she left a trail of her own blood in her wake as long as she was moving on her own steam. A Redfield to the core, she was extremely proud and would have rather died than show any kind of physical weakness.
But when they were alone, she'd let him sweep her into his arms like a fairy tale princess, blushing as she looped her arms around his neck. Tonight her eyes were especially dreamy as he eased the guest room door closed with his foot.
"And the handsome prince carried his lady to the tallest room in the tower," she murmured, stroking his cheek. "So she could sleep the most enchanted sleep."
He chuckled, placing her carefully on the full-sized bed. "You could use an enchanted sleep. You've had a rough day." Sighing through his nose, he lay down beside her, one elbow bent to support his head. "I'm sorry, angel wings. I shouldn't have pushed you so hard tonight. Starting a fight with your brother was the last thing I wanted to do, believe me."
Claire just smiled. "You keep on impressing him, you know." She rolled onto her side, resting her own head on her arm, eyes twinkling. "You keep impressing me, too." She sighed, lashes sweeping down as she averted her gaze. "Actually, I think it's me who owes you an apology. I've been pretty selfish about this relationship, haven't I?"
"Don't be ridiculous," he said, but she shook her head and continued.
"No, really. I'm used to calling all the shots, and I…" She squirmed, a blush staining her cheek, rolling away from him, then rolling back. "I didn't want to share you right away. When everyone knows about a relationship, they start raising their eyebrows and grinning at you, asking questions, and I…" She sighed, closing her eyes. "I just wanted you all to myself for a while."
"You've got me all to yourself," Leon promised softly.
"Forgive me?" she murmured, snuggling close.
"Shut up," he answered playfully, ending the sentence with a quick kiss. "Nothing to forgive. Did you mean what you said tonight?" he asked, tracing absent patterns on her back.
Claire knew exactly what he meant. Her eyes drifted to half-mast as she stroked her knuckles down his cheek and repeated it. "You are more important to me than anything else in the world." She smiled, repeating another conversation they'd had earlier. "I'm in love with you."
What Leon wanted to know was why couples that had been together for a long time stopped making out. Why on earth would they? He hoped he and Claire never fell into that trap, but he doubted he'd let them, not when being entwined felt so good, hips, hands, lips pressed together, her body malleable in his arms, a delicious hint of more intense pleasure to follow.
As if she'd read his mind, Claire broke their kiss to ask, "Know what else I meant?" She craned her neck to whisper in his ear. "That I'd make it all up to you." She pulled back to lay beneath him again in invitation, her eyes darkening with pure desire. "Want me to?"
"Yeah." His kiss was fierce this time, and she flexed her nails on his shoulders in anticipation, making him purr. "You know," he murmured against her neck, "maybe we should have kept it a secret for a little longer."
"Oh yeah?" Claire said idly, tilting her head to give him easier access, shuddering as he pressed his lips to the big pulse in her throat. "Why's that?"
He smiled, feeling her words vibrate against his lips. "Because it would have been fun to sneak around the condo and try to keep it from your brother."
Claire frowned playfully, pinching his arm. "Sure, you say that now, you ass."
Leon laughed, rolling her over so he was atop her. "Come on. It would have been such fun." He spoke the words against her skin as he trailed a line of kisses down her collarbone to her breasts. "Sliding my hands under your clothes, teasing you, kissing hard, trying to stay quiet so your brother wouldn't hear…"
Claire grinned. "Spoken like a teenager."
"You know how teenaged boys are," Leon murmured, sliding the hem of her t-shirt up to expose her stomach, stroking up her sensitive sides. "They love a thrill. And they have insatiable sexual appetites." He slid her shirt higher, revealing her breasts straining against the hot pink lace of a plunging demi-bra. "A teenaged boy would like this," he added, stroking a finger down into her cleavage.
"What about older boys?" Claire whispered, shifting her position and arching her back slightly to offer her breasts to him.
"Older boys would love this," Leon promised, playing with one of her bra straps. "Especially if there were matching panties."
"A girl doesn't care as much about matching if she's not expecting to get laid that night," Claire teased, but she made no move to pull her shirt back down.
"Should I take that as a 'no'?" Leon's stroking finger traveled lower, exploring the exposed skin of her belly and questing just past the waist of her jeans. "Or should I find out for myself?"
Claire's eyes twinkled. "I don't know," she whispered. "My brother might hear."
With a growl, Leon closed the distance between them with a fierce kiss, and judging by her whimper, she was going to have a hard time keeping quiet. When he broke the kiss, her eyes were half-mast, her look almost helpless as she breathed, "You make me feel like a teenager."
The sounds of unbuttoning and unzipping were lost beneath the sound of desperate, heated kisses. Backing off her, Leon got to his knees, pulling at her jeans. Claire lifted herself to assist him as he slipped them off, revealing a scrap of hot pink lace, a perfect match to the lace that hid her breasts from him.
Claire smiled silkily. "Maybe I was expecting to get laid tonight."
Leon shook his head, eyes dark with desire. "Your brother is definitely going to hear you," he promised, mounting her once more with a demanding kiss. Claire moaned and the kiss became a playful fight for dominance until Claire threw her weight against his hip, rolling him over to straddle him. Sliding down his body, she threaded her fingers through his belt loops, pulling so that he growled with the strain on his erection.
"My brother asked me if I was good to you," she purred, resting her cheek against his stomach, hand idly stroking him through his jeans. "Am I?"
"Good to me, angel wings," he murmured, eyes flickering closed as she toyed with his zipper, then forcing open once more as she rubbed her cheek against him, eliciting a pleased groan. "Claire, you're so good to me."
"Want me to be good to you right now?" she asked, pressing a kiss to his zipper before drawing it down.
"Yes," he breathed, fingers tangling in her hair. "Oh, yes."
Claire laughed softly, and her eyes twinkled mischievously as he looked helplessly into that made-in-heaven smile.
"My brother's going to hear you, too," she promised, blowing him a kiss before her lips closed much more intimately on him.
**
"Should I dial 911?" Jill asked, trying not to laugh and failing.
Chris lay with a pillow wrapped around his head, trying to cover his ears as best he could. "What?"
Jill frowned playfully. "Oh, stop it. You said you were okay with this. Either you are or you aren't."
"I am okay with it when it is happening in Long Island, or Miami, or anywhere that is not my house," Chris said, dropping the pillow and sitting up. Unfortunately, he'd picked the wrong time to discard his makeshift earplugs—the walls were not enough to completely muffle a growl of passion and the sounds of a woman well satisfied in the room beyond. Wide-eyed, Chris grabbed for his pillow again. "Oh my god."
Jill seized her own pillow and hit her partner with it. "Grow up!" she laughed. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to time-travel back to the days when the only men Claire was in love with were Harrison Ford and Kiefer Sutherland," Chris groaned, turning his face into his pillow.
More laughter drifted through the wall. "Wow, they must be going for round two," Jill murmured, impressed. Poking her bedmate, she said, "Remember when we used to sound like that?"
"Jill, if you don't mind, I'm in the middle of a nervous breakdown," Chris said from somewhere in the pillow. "I don't need a guilt trip force-fed to me." Resurfacing, he added, "And incidentally, I can remember back to six days ago on the washing machine."
"Who says laundry day can't be fun?" Jill purred, remembering herself.
A soft cry pulled both their attention back to the wall. Jill sighed, smiling. "I'm all for Claire being in love, but you'd think she'd at least try to keep it down. It's three A.M. We should knock on the wall or someth—oh!"
Chris had abandoned his pillow, rolling her over in the bed and sliding atop her. "You're right. We should knock on the wall," he agreed, collapsing his lower body between her legs and leaning in for a kiss. "We should knock on the wall with the headboard."
Jill chuckled. "Think we can be louder than them?"
Chris smirked. "I don't think. What do I get if I sink this shot?"
Jill snickered. "I love it when you talk dirty, Redfield."
**
"Thanks for everything," Claire said over the phone. "And thanks for the Glazers. I'll feel a lot safer knowing anything I shoot won't go through the walls."
"Hope you never have to use them," Chris said. Before they'd left for the airport, he'd given Claire a box of Glazer Safety Slugs, something he'd been meaning to do for a while. It had been years since either she or Leon had gotten into trouble on their home turf, but Chris felt a lot better knowing she'd be able to protect herself without endangering her day-living neighbors. He knew she could easily have gotten the rounds herself, but giving them to her made him feel a little more useful, even if he couldn't be there in the thick of it with her. It was only money. "But I'll feel better knowing you have them. They'll go perfectly with that Browning that you're so in love with." He grinned, knowing she could hear the smile in his voice even if she couldn't see it.
"You promised," Claire sang in a sweetly warning tone.
"I know, I know. No more teasing."
A few seconds of silence passed, and then Claire sighed. "Get it out of your system if you must."
Chris grinned on his side of the phone. "Claire has a boyyyyyfrienddddd."
Another voice could be heard on the other end. "Give it to me. I'm going to knock him the hell out."
Chris laughed. "Tell Kennedy that I am quaking in my steel-toed, size twelve boots."
Claire's voice was warm and sweet with victory. "He takes a size thirteen."
Chris whistled. "Well, aren't you a lucky girl."
"You know it," Claire purred.
Chris did know it—he'd spent the weekend first hearing it, then trying to compete with it.
An announcement could be heard over the loudspeaker somewhere beyond her. "Oh, they're boarding. I have to go. Thanks for everything, Chris. You and Jill keep taking good care of each other, okay? Maybe next time the two of you can come out and see us. Talk to you soon."
"Okay, kiddo. Get home safe and—Claire?" He rushed her name, hoping to catch her attention before she hung up.
"Yeah?"
She sounded as though she were rummaging in her bag for something, probably a boarding pass. Chris could picture her, slightly preoccupied, tail of hair flicking like flame as she hurried to catch up to her boyfriend—her partner.
"I love you, babygirl," Chris blurted out, suddenly unable to reconcile the two images—the little girl he'd looked out for all his life and the woman he was so proud of. "Don't ever forget that."
Claire's soft laughter dispelled all his discomfort. "I love you too, big brother. See you when I see you." With a click, she was gone, on her way home.
Chris sighed, ending the call on his own phone. Amazing the way life sorted itself out, the places you ended up. Sliding the phone across the kitchen table, he reached into his pocket for a cigarette, eyes focused on some new additions to the refrigerator—one was a picture of Claire with her back to Leon's chest, his arms draped over her shoulders, cheek pressed to hers.
The latest photo was crooked because they'd had to prop the camera on a stack of car magazines, and it was a little high because they hadn't been able to fit everyone in otherwise, and Jill was laughing instead of just smiling because Chris had set the timer incorrectly, but all four of them were in it and looking happily at the lens.
Chris grinned. That was more than could be said for a lot of family photos. He liked it just fine.
**
Author's Notes:
I have given a name to visual happiness, and it is Strawberry Electric nail polish by Revlon, the perfect shade of Made-In-Heaven Pink.
This story is something I've wanted to do for a long time, as a gift, a favor to my two main RE men, Leon and Chris. I absolutely hate it when people write Chris as having a massive case of testosterone poisoning and wanting to kill Leon for being with Claire, and I also hate it when Leon is subsequently written as being a little wimpy mary who's deathly afraid of incurring the wrath of Chris. That's retarded. They are two grown men and I honestly believe they'd be able to agree on the most important fact of the matter—that they love Claire and she's important to both of them. So I hope my favorite boys are pleased with this fic—I wrote it for them, really, after all.
Some readers haven't been keen on my at times rather lengthy notes. I know I can get a bit verbose when it comes to the many references I include in my fics. But I do it because it amuses me, and I feel it's not only fun but more fair to explain any inside jokes or pop culture references I include, so if you're not interested in that sort of thing, go ahead and skip this next part. But feel free to leave me a review anyway. *^_~* Okay, and we're off:
The Made In Heaven jacket: I know that Claire gives her "Made In Heaven" vest to Sherry Birkin in Resident Evil 2, but I couldn't not give her another article of clothing with the coolest design ever. I actually painted one up for myself ( .com/art/The-Made-In-Heaven-Jacket-113290277 ) , that's how much I love that design.
Jill's hair: I had lots of fun watching the introduction of Jill Valentine in Resident Evil 5 (I don't own it—yet—but I watched this particular scene online) except that I have mixed feelings about Jill's new look. I loved her edgy bobbed haircut from the REmake and Nemesis games and I'm not really digging the low pony (I, like Claire, am a high-pony kind of person), but I did think it was neat that she finally went all blonde (lots of people are growling that she's never been blonde, but if they looked harder at the Nemesis sprites, they'd see blonde highlights in her hair—I did). So I split the difference here and gave her the old length with the new color. It's all been canon at some point in time (if not necessarily all at the same time), so I only consider this a mild bending of the rules. Chris's RE5 sprite, on the other hand, is yummier than ever before. *fans self.* Drool, drool.
"Backdraft" is the name of a bar I used to frequent before it lost its liquor license and resurfaced as something else, as our favorite bars tend to do. (It does not have a mechanical bull, but another bar that we refuse to go to does.) If you were about twelve, you could get liquor at Backdraft's, and my friends and I had some crazy times there. Mine involved a table full of cell phones, ongoing disasters courtesy of an affair I shouldn't have had, something wacky with a mariachi bandstand and something odd involving the alley behind the place and a missing jacket, which is a much funnier story that no one gets to hear.
When refusing to ride the mechanical bull, Jill makes a mention of a Coheed and Cambria titular lyric from the song "Once Upon Your Dead Body".
Claire's shirt is another Firestar original that I'd like to design some day, featuring a lyric from Too Much Love Will Kill You, which can be found on what is only the best Queen album ever, Made In Heaven, of course. *^_~*
Claire teases Leon by saying she's going to play him "Dirty White Boy" by Foreigner, but she doesn't—she plays him "Hysteria" by Def Leppard instead, which is definitely on my playlist for makeout CDs.
In Resident Evil 2, when in the S.T.A.R.S. office, if you go to the back of the room and examine the trophies on the shelf, you'll find one that says Marksmanship Award—Chris Redfield.
Leon fondly recalls Claire threatening her wooden foosball players with a reference to Bobby Knight, the Indiana Hoosiers basketball coach who threw a chair in 1985 and was arrested for assault.
"Off the Wagon"is the name of a bar my friends used to frequent without me, when I was down south (consider it my own personal Code: Veronica, except instead of looking for a missing brother, I was looking for myself. As soon as I found her, I got us both the hell out of there). I've only been there once. It's not the sort of place that holds wet t-shirt contests, but I think the name is a great name for a bar. So Chris is likely referring to a fictional bar, not to be confused with the real locale, which is in New York City.
Chris tells Leon he's surprised he didn't choose "Killer Queen"—an entirely entertaining song about the contradictions of a high-class call girl—as the song he plays Claire on the jukebox, and any friend of the Redfields ought to know who sings that. *^_~* While it's not directly mentioned in the text, Leon alludes to what he chose for Claire instead—the Rolling Stones playing my favorite, "She's a Rainbow".
In a fit of temper, Leon refers to Chris and Jill as Starsky and Hutch, a nod to the 1970s television detectives of the same names. It's no accident—Starsky is a dark-haired, street-smart hothead, while his partner Hutch is a blond, coolheaded intellectual. Remind you of a pair of partners we know? *^_~*
Claire calls Leon "Slim" throughout this fic. That's a nickname another famously heroic redhead gives her hero—in any given X-Men comic book, Jean Grey will call her star-crossed lover Cyclops by his nickname, "Slim". Leon does tend to strike me as a Scott Summers type. And that is not a bad thing. No, not at all. Mmmmm. *^_^*
Jill warns Chris that Claire does not have "acid for blood". This is a reference to one of my favorite movies, Ridley Scott's Alien. H.R. Geiger's aliens were ingeniously devious predators—even Parker says it himself: "You don't dare kill it," at the risk of being shrapneled by the creature's highly corrosive blood.
The gun Leon gives Claire at the beginning of Resident Evil 2 is indeed a Browning Hi-Power 9mm, and I'd love to explore that in another story someday. At the end of this story, Chris sends his baby sister home with a present, too—Glazer Safety Slugs, which are designed to break into fragments. Their main purpose is not necessarily to cause fatal wounds but more to reduce the possibility of collateral damage should the bullet miss its intended target.
Huh, there were a lot this time. Well, what can you do—this story took me nearly a month to complete. Damn OT. Oh well, Playstation 3s don't pay for themselves…
Feel free to drop me a line if you had fun with this one—I did!—or if there was something you thought needed improvement. Just know I'll make you check your weapons at the door. I'm paranoid like that. *^_~*