Another Week Gone By
WEEK 24
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Monday
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It was Monday again, five months and three weeks since Jill Valentine had joined S.T.A.R.S. That meant it was "Pesker Wesker" morning, and Chris and Joseph would be at the station early (whether it was their day off or not, as was their dedication to the "task"), picking the lock on the captain's office door and hiding the office cat inside somewhere inconspicuous.
And every Monday at eight on the hour, Wesker would stroll through RPD's front doors, to his office and then swear colorfully before tossing the cat into the hallway and slamming his door. Chris and Joseph would get a good giggle out of it and Wesker would ignore them for the rest of the day. (He'd stopped punishing Joesph for his tricks long ago, and it only took until Chris's third week with the department and helping Joseph out with the shenanigans before Wesker had given up on Chris as well.)
Jill wondered why Wesker was surprised every Monday when the cat was in his office again, but dashed the thought as quickly as it had come. She knew very well how damn sneaky that cat was, and that even if Wesker knew the cat would be there, it would always be a surprise when the attack came.
But when Jill arrived at the station that morning, two minutes past eight, she found Chris and Joseph sulking in the hall outside Wesker's office, the black bundle of Albert the office cat curled in Chris's lap. (And Joseph swears on his mother's grave that he named the cat Albert without knowing the captain's full name was Albert Wesker, but no one in the office—least of all the captain—believed him.)
The two men gave Jill forlorn looks before staring back at their laps (or Albert, in Chris's case). Jill blinked at them, more than a little confused, before dropping her purse and coat off at her desk and joining the two in the hallway.
She slumped down next to Chris and began stroking Albert absently.
"What's got you two down today?" Jill asked.
They sighed and muttered in unison, "Wesker ruined Pesker Wesker Day."
Jill laughed and the two men glowered at her. "I'm sorry," she apologized (though she hardly meant it). "What'd he do? Chris- and Joseph-proof his door?"
"No," Chris mumbled, scratching Albert under the chin. "He was early."
"Since when is he ever early?" Joseph shook his head, dumbfounded.
Bumping his head against the wall, Chris said, "I can't believe he threw a paperweight at me. I'm going to have a bruise for a week now!"
Letting out another sigh, Chris and Joseph went back to sulking. Jill got the feeling they had been forced to sit in the hall as punishment, like two naughty schoolboys who put a tack on the teacher's chair. The only thing missing were the big white dunce caps.
Giving Albert one last pet, Jill jumped to her feet and was giving her regards to her fellow officers when the disgruntled voice of the captain came from his office.
"Valentine," he said, and she could hear the scowl in his voice, "I need to see you."
Chris snorted out a "hah!" while Jill swallowed. What had she done? She hadn't participated in any of Joseph's (and later Chris's) near-everyday shenanigans since she joined! What could Captain Wesker possibly want with her?
"Better not keep him waiting, Jill," Chris muttered, nodding to the door. "I think he has more paperweights..."
Jill suppressed a laugh and opened the captain's door cautiously, slipping in through as small a crack as she could manage.
"Close the door."
She complied, tensing at the rage lacing Wesker's voice.
Wesker, leaning tiredly on his desk, had his lamp on and was scrutinizing one page of a very large stack on his desk. As Jill stood frozen at his door, Wesker rubbed his thumb over his temple before running his hand back through his normally-immaculate hair. It was a little ruffled today, as if he'd been running his fingers absently through it for most of the morning and the effects of his gel had diminished. Jill began to wonder if he'd even gone home since yesterday evening.
He suddenly dropped the paper to his desk and leaned back into his chair heavily, hands creased over his stomach.
"Valentine," he started, "you've been with us for nearly six months now. I'd like to know how you're fairing."
Even behind his sunglasses, Jill knew he was burning a stare right through her. She shuddered, butterflies settling in the pit of her stomach. God, if there was any worse time, she had to feel this way now, when he was watching her so closely. To hell with hormones, she inwardly cursed. What good had they ever done anyone?
Jill clasped her hands together and shifted uncomfortably near the door. Wesker's gaze continued and his neutral expression remained unchanged. Good. Maybe he wouldn't notice the blush creeping up her face or the way she was rubbing her legs together or the way she was avoiding his eyes.
"I've been doing just fine, sir," Jill managed, hating herself for sounding so weak—so not herself. "I'm getting along well with everyone, and the work is fine—nothing I can't handle." She smiled and lifted her eyes to Wesker, only to be surprised by the bare hint of a smile on his own face—a smirk.
"Excellent," he announced, sitting back up in his chair and returning to his work. "I never doubted for a moment that you were not the perfect candidate for the position. Exactly as I expected from a former Delta Force." Pencil now in hand and scribbling furiously across the page, Jill concluded that Wesker required nothing else of her.
She turned on her heel and grabbed the door handle, halfway turning it before Wesker spoke again.
"Friday night at seven."
Jill, twisting her head back to stare wide-eyed at Wesker, squeaked, "What, sir?"
"I'll be over Friday night at seven."
That's what she had thought he said. Jill squeaked out a "yes, sir" before managing to escape his office, hoping to hide her embarrassment at her desk.
Oh fuck.
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Tuesday
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It was Tuesday again, but Jill hadn't slept a wink for the first time since the Sunday before her very first day at work with S.T.A.R.S. Her mind was still on overdrive from the captain's presumptuous attitude. He's nothing but an ass, she thought derisively, but inwardly she swooned. A chance to get to know the captain and a date with a handsome man all rolled into one? It was a damn dream come true.
But hell, she was more nervous than she had been during her and Wesker's first meeting, and that was saying something.
Her alarm clock was due to go off anytime. Jill fretted about dinner and attire until it did, and long after she'd gotten up, showered, dressed and left her building to walk the ten minutes to the station.
At work, she sat quietly at her desk, absentmindedly filling out paperwork and biting her nails. By lunchtime, she had formulated a plan she hoped would be fruitful in information about her dear captain.
Lunch was one of the few times during the day that Captain Wesker could be spotted outside his office, and today was no exception. While most of the officers at the RPD went out to eat, the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team members enjoyed eating in each other's company (though whether Wesker considered it enjoyable was up for debate).
Today, Jill would both find out what Wesker liked to eat and how he liked his women. The former was easily accomplished—Jill would seat herself next to Wesker and take a good look at his lunch's contents. It was the latter that would prove more difficult. She would have to steer the conversation toward that of the men's preferences (of course, that was the easy part) and then somehow coax the captain into participating and revealing a little bit about himself.
It was noon. Lunch for the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team had arrived, and Chris and Joseph were already pulling the tables together and collecting enough chairs. The rest of the members helped in finding chairs before beginning to seat themselves around the circular table. Jill knew by now that Chris and Joseph always reserved the "head" (or rather, the side of the table directly in front of the hallway leading to Wesker's and Chief Irons's offices) of the table for Captain Wesker, and so, she slipped into one of the empty seats on either side of Wesker's spot. Chris claimed the other.
Five minutes later, Captain Wesker emerged from his office, a neatly folded paper bag in his hand. As he seated himself, the rest of the S.T.A.R.S. dug into their food, as if lunch could not have started without him.
Jill opened her own paper bag and pulled out a simple PB&J and an apple. Bringing the apple to her mouth, she eyed Wesker as he slipped out his lunch.
She raised her eyebrows as he cracked open an overly large tupperware bowl full of cold noodles. Wesker pulled a plastic fork from his lunch bag and a fleeting, loving look passed over his face as he twisted noodles around his fork.
"Um, sir," Jill interceded, holding her apple awkwardly, "aren't you going to microwave those?"
The S.T.A.R.S. Captain gave her sidelong glance behind his sunglasses. "I prefer them cold," he said with finality.
Jill was not deterred so easily, however. Not when the man had invited himself to a date with her and she no fucking clue what to cook him. Definitely not.
"Sir," Jill continued, "are you a big pasta fan?"
Her teammates were all staring at her oddly by now. It was a rarity that anyone aside from Chris attempted to engage their captain in civil conversation, but Goddamn it if Jill wasn't going to try her hardest to make her captain a little bit more social for her today.
Wesker looked thoughtful. "Yes."
"I've been here for quite a few months now," Jill said, smoothly, "but you know I've never actually paid attention to anyone's lunches?" She made a point to look over her teammates food before turning back to Wesker. "What else do you like, Captain?"
Out of the corner of her eye, Jill saw Joseph nudge Chris and whisper something that sounded suspiciously like got a crush into his ear. Chris shook his head, unbelieving, and elbowed Joseph hard in the ribs and told him to "stop trying to spread rumors." Jill seethed and shot Joseph a glare, resisting the urge to blush profusely, lest she give away her cover.
Again, Wesker looked thoughtful. "Meat and fruit."
Jill ground her teeth together as the frustration built up inside her. The obstinate ass.
She returned to her own lunch moments later, giving up on questioning Wesker about his favorite foods while the rest of the team discussed their own. Quietly sighing, Jill was nearly resigned to not being able to broach the subject of women today when Chris opened his loud mouth and started the discussion for her.
"Since our dear captain is being so talkative today," Chris said before slipping one hand around the captain's shoulder, much to the man's displeasure as a frown creased his face, "I think now is as good a time as any to interrogate the captain about his love life!"
Wesker's frown deepened and Jill would have blushed if she didn't have absolute trust in her captain to keep their date a secret from the men.
"So, Capitano," Chris clapped his hand on Wesker's shoulder a few times, "what do you look for in a woman?"
Unphased, Wesker continued eating his cold noodles as he answered Chris's question with a question. "I thought you were interrogating me about my love life—not trying to set me up on a date."
"But discovering what sort of women you like is directly related to your love life!"
Jill pressed her hand over her mouth to suppress a laugh as Wesker took a deep breath and, after probably rolling his eyes, said, "Explain."
Chris brightened up at the chance to talk for an extended period, and immediately delved into how Wesker would never tell them who he was dating (if he was dating someone), so they would have to put their detective skills to work and find out who the lucky girl was by her looks and personality alone. (Chris conveniently left out trailing the captain in order to catch a glimpse of the girl. It was a well-known fact that Chris and Joseph had stalked Wesker for three weeks straight and failed to even figure out where the captain lived. Either their trailing skills left something to be desired, or Wesker was too good at evading them.)
As Chris blabbered on, Jill zoned out, her mind wandering back to her date with Captain Wesker. In her first week with S.T.A.R.S., she'd developed an immediate crush on Wesker. Her being the first girl to join, the captain had designated himself as the "only one mature enough to show a beautiful woman the ropes." From that first comment to the rare smile he'd given her at the end of work that Friday, Jill was hooked. The man was gorgeous, mysterious and a gentleman—what more could Jill have looked for in a crush at her new job?
But in all of her six months and three weeks, she never thought she'd be having a date with him.
All of a sudden, there was a hand grasping Jill's knee, and it took all of her self-control not to jump and shriek with surprise. Instead, she snapped her head to Wesker and followed his left arm under the table to where his hand had claimed her knee.
Jill slipped her hand over his, interlocking with his fingers. She felt him glance at her from behind his sunglasses before returning his bored attention to Chris, who had finally gotten to the end of his winded explanation.
"And so, with that out of the way," Chris paused for what was probably dramatic effect (which he failed to achieve), "Captain Wesker, I, Chris Redfield, demand to know how you prefer your women!"
Shaking his head, a low chuckle escaping his lips, Wesker obliged Chris. "I prefer my women naked and underneath me, Redfield. Why? How do you prefer yours? Dressed and on top?"
Chris blushed with anger and embarrassment as the rest of the men at the table laughed. Joseph patted Chris on the back, sympathizing, and said, "Don't worry, Chris. Wearing the skirt in the relationship ain't so bad!" before Chris reared back and socked him in the nose.
His noodles finished, Wesker released Jill's hand and put his tupperware back into the paper bag he'd brought it in. Then, with a lascivious smirk, Wesker left Jill at the table while she scowled about the naked and under him comment.
Definitely not on the first date.
Well, okay, maybe, she reasoned. She was willing to make exceptions.
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Wednesday
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It was Wednesday again and Jill was early for work.
Not only was she early for work, but she was standing outside her captain's office door, where the sounds of him working once again indicated he had stayed the night, filling out paperwork. S.T.A.R.S. hadn't had a mission in at least two weeks, but the paperwork that had resulted from that one mission was mountainous. Jill wondered how many days Wesker had stayed the night in the office now, trying to finish his share of the paperwork (which had been most of it, due to his being the team captain).
Gently knocking, Jill let herself into Wesker's office. "Captain?" she said quietly, slipping inside.
"Oh," she whispered, her shoulders slumping a little.
Wesker was ungracefully passed out on his desk, every single paper from the mission two weeks ago now filled out and signed, stacked neatly in a large cardboard box to his left. Light snores were the "working noises" Jill had heard. The man looked disheveled and beaten: his normally immaculate hair was ruffled and out of place where the gel had been displaced; his sunglasses were smudged and currently askew, nearly revealing his closed eyes; there were dark circles under his eyes, proving just how long he had been up and working; and his S.T.A.R.S. vest was haphazardly draped over the back of the chair, while the rest of his uniform was wrinkled.
She'd wanted to talk to him, about Friday. Ask him what he wanted for dinner while she had the courage.
But she wouldn't wake him up—he would need all the sleep he could get right now.
Jill turned to leave when Wesker spoke, drearily.
"Yes, Valentine?" His head was raised, chin planted on his palm, elbow leaning heavily against the desk. His eyes were bloodshot, perfectly complementing the circles under them. He drew his free hand through his hair while Jill approached his desk, partially straightening the blond locks.
"I was just inquiring about Friday, sir." She smiled at him nervously.
The captain straightened his sunglasses. "Yes? What of it?" he snapped. Jill winced at his irritableness.
At the sound of the S.T.A.R.S. office door flinging open and slamming shut (likely Barry arriving), Jill moved even closer to Wesker's desk. She gripped the edge of it and leaned down to talk quietly with her captain.
"What would you like to eat for dinner?"
The captain suddenly grinned broadly, revealing his dazzling white teeth. God, Jill breathed. Was there anything about him that wasn't gorgeous? No one could be that perfect.
"That explains your curiosity yesterday at lunch."
Jill scratched the back of her head sheepishly. "I was sort of afraid to ask."
"What makes today different?"
Shrugging, Jill gestured at the empty room. "No prying ears."
Wesker nodded, agreeing. "I feel as if we should...keep this date between ourselves for the time being."
"Yeah," Jill said. "I don't think the guys would be too happy about it anyway."
Smirking, Wesker flicked his hand in a dismissive manner. "As for dinner," he began, and Jill could feel his smoldering stare through his sunglasses, "I believe yesterday was hint enough."
Jill baulked. "Cold noodles, meat and fruit?" She flung her hands to her hair, clutching at her scalp, and making a frustrated noise. How could he be anymore vague? "What kind of meat? Fruit? How can you possibly want cold noodles on our first date?"
"You misunderstand," Wesker purred. "I wasn't talking about food."
Realization dawned on Jill's face and she turned instantly beat red while Wesker chuckled.
Jill spun on her heel and stormed from Wesker's office, straight into the women's locker room.
Wesker was treating her in a way she'd never been treated before: he was being himself, and he was successfully winning Jill over.
Yeah, Jill thought, she'd definitely make an exception.
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Thursday
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It was Thursday again, and Jill had overslept. Her alarm clock lay somewhere across the room and Jill suspected she had woke up and thrown the damn thing. It wouldn't be the first time, after all.
Groaning, Jill decided there was no point in hurrying; she was already late. Wesker was going to give her the same punishment no matter when she came in, so she might as well take a quick shower.
She took ten minutes to wash her hair, soap up and shave before wrapping a towel around herself and leaving the bathroom. She shuffled into her bedroom, looking for her bathrobe. Suddenly, she took a double-take, backtracking out of her bedroom and into her living room, where Captain Wesker was sitting on her couch, sipping on a cup of coffee.
"You're late to work, Valentine," Wesker announced, not even turning to look at her as he spoke.
Jill sputtered. "I overslept... Why...why are you in my apartment, captain?"
Wesker shrugged, sipping more of his coffee. "I thought that with your apartment so close, instead of waiting for you to arrive, I would personally retrieve you."
"Slow day at the office, huh?" Jill retreated into her room, ignoring the fact that Wesker had somehow gotten into her locked apartment. As she gathered her clothing, she faintly heard Wesker's reply.
"You caught me."
Smiling, Jill pulled on her underwear and uniform pants, followed by her bra and undershirt. She grabbed her uniform shirt before heading into the bathroom to do her hair. "I might be a couple minutes yet," she said loudly enough for Wesker to hear.
"No rush," he responded. "I don't think anyone has realized that I left."
Jill heard the couch squeak and his boots thud on the kitchen linoleum as he went to refill his coffee. She wondered if he was always this comfortable in others' homes. The answer was probably yes. Letting out a sigh of exasperation at Wesker's forwardness, Jill unraveled the towel around her head and set to work on brushing, blow drying and then straightening her hair. When she was finished, she slipped her uniform top on and buttoned it.
She glanced up into the mirror to find Wesker staring back at her, leaning against the doorway, coffee cup still in one hand.
Jill gestured at herself. "Enjoying the show?" Wesker grinned at her in the mirror and she chuckled, continuing to button her shirt.
He took a sip of his coffee. "I always enjoy watching a good looking woman."
"You know," she said, "coming from most men, that would sound creepy."
"I'm not 'most men.'"
Jill smiled softly at him. "I've come to realize this." She paused, her fingers playing with the final button on her shirt. "Everyone in the office thinks either you're too much of a hardass for most women, or that you're gay."
Even through the sunglasses, Jill knew Wesker was looking her right in the eye through the mirror. "You're not 'most women,'" he said.
"Yeah," she mumbled. "But what I think," she continued, "is that you're just being yourself, and no one can handle that."
"And you think you can?"
"I've handled you so far, haven't I?" Jill finally turned to face him, and took a step closer, now an arm's length from him. "I like that you're honest," she said. "I find it quite attractive, actually."
"Really."
"Really," Jill repeated.
Without another word, Wesker reached around Jill and set his coffee cup down on the back of the toilet before grabbing her to him and kissing her forcefully.
Jill, stunned, stood limply in his arms and allowed herself to be kissed. After a few moments, Wesker broke it off and stood back to look and smile at her.
"You're gorgeous and I want to fuck you," he said. "Is that honest enough for you?"
Jill's only answer was to kiss him back. When all was said done, Jill's face was flushed beyond all belief and Wesker was pointedly pressing his erection into her stomach.
"Sir," she gasped, and Wesker's erection seemed to throb at the acknowledgement of his superiority, "I think we need to get to work now."
Wesker laughed. "Perhaps we do, Jill."
At the use of her first name, the butterflies that had been sleeping in Jill's stomach began flying around and the nervousness about their date the next day returned.
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Friday
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It was Friday again, and Jill was home after a long day at work, busy cooking a large pot of noodles while the butterflies that had plagued her since yesterday morning flew rampant in her stomach.
She still didn't have anything to wear, and when she had complained to Chris earlier that morning (more out of convenience than thinking he could help) that she had a date and didn't know what to wear, Wesker hadn't made things better. He had butted into the conversation and told her, with what she imagined was the most devious look in his eyes, that she could always go in her underwear. That whomever the lucky guy was would definitely enjoy the sight.
Chris had laughed and agreed with a huge grin on his face, and Jill had fumed at Wesker and ignored him for the rest of the day.
But as seven rolled around and the noodles were finished and cooling on the stove, water strained, Jill had decided the captain would have to live with Jill in her current state—loose t-shirt, loose pants, slightly messy hair. For an at-home date, she came to the conclusion that he wasn't allowed to expect much. He could be thankful she cooked a heaping amount of dinner for him, what with the appetite he seemed to have.
The knock came as she was settling down on the couch to watch a little TV. She jumped up immediately and walked briskly to it, but her hand quivered on the knob as she swallowed the lump in her throat and urged the butterflies in her stomach to die already. Her and Wesker's little excursion in her apartment yesterday morning had done absolutely nothing to settle her nerves about today. Had, perhaps, made them worse at the final, absolute honesty of Wesker's desires for their date. She hadn't taken him seriously on Tuesday or Wednesday, even if she had decided she'd let him, if he wanted. He had been stressed all week, after all. But it was Thursday that he had made it most clear he was serious, and Jill was, understandably, a little nervous. This was not only a date with her captain, but sex with him.
She had only had sex a few times, and never before on the first date. But she liked Wesker—a lot. Way more than the other guys she'd given it up to. She couldn't, in good faith, deny him when she'd so easily had sex with men she was hardly interested in after the second and third dates.
Besides, it'd continue her tradition of making the first date "interesting."
After taking a deep breath, she opened the door. "Hello, Captain!" she greeted cheerily. "Please come in and make yourself at home—."
Jill was suddenly spun around and pinned to the backside of her apartment door, the momentum of her body and Wesker's slamming it shut. His lips locked onto hers while the rest of him easily trapped her.
Not that she was complaining. As Wesker deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers, Jill thrust her hips into his thighs and let out a needy moan.
In between kisses, she joked, "If I had known you were serious about this being what you wanted tonight,"--Wesker trapped her in a kiss again, but she broke it to continue-- "I wouldn't have actually made dinner."
This time, Wesker broke the kiss. "Dinner?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, yeah," Jill answered sheepishly. "This is a date, isn't it?"
"It certainly is now."
Jill scowled, her fist raised to sock her captain as he released her from the door and looked around for the food, but he grasped her hand before she could go through with it. He turned back to her and used his free hand to cup her face.
"A joke, of course," he purred, a smirk on his face. "Though you're certainly cute when you're mad, Jill."
Jill gestured to the pot of noodles still on the stove. "Are we eating dinner now?"
Wesker didn't even take a moment to contemplate before he ducked, wrapped an arm around the back of Jill's knees and hefted her over his shoulder. "I think," he began, "we should work up an appetite first."
Jill protested, flailing against Wesker's firm grip on her legs and side. Her face flushed with heat as Wesker kicked open her bedroom door and then kicked it shut again before dropping her down onto the bed. Jill sat up, scrambled backward, and gasped when Wesker gripped the front of her shirt and slammed her against the headboard.
"Playing hard to get, are we?" Wesker observed and Jill smiled coyly back at him.
"I like to make the first date the most interesting."
Wesker's hands slid under Jill's shirt, his fingers tickling against the edge of her bra, before he hooked his thumbs under the edge and lifted it above her breasts.
"What a coincidence," Wesker purred, tugging Jill's top up and releasing her hardened nipples to the cool air. "So do I."
"If this past week has been any indication," Jill gasped as Wesker's teeth and tongue assaulted her nipples, "you certainly do."
Wesker paused his ministrations, seemingly contemplating Jill's breasts as he held them. "You didn't think I wasn't serious this week, did you?"
"Well, yeah..."
He clicked his tongue and shook his head before yanking Jill's pants down to her knees. "I think you should know, my dear," he traced a pattern over Jill's navel as he spoke and she squirmed beneath him in a mixture of want, and agony at being tickled, "that unless I say I am joking, my words are always serious. I am, as you said, honest, after all."
"Way to make me eat my words, sir." Jill got the exact reaction she was hoping for with her "sir" when Wesker gave her a sultry, toothy smile before flinging his sunglasses off to the side, revealing his eyes to her for the first time, and the animal-like desire within them.
As if their clothes were nothing at all, Wesker had them both stripped bare in no time flat. He pinned Jill to the bed and leaned into her, his mouth against her neck as he whispered, "Watch your tongue. You wouldn't want to be punished for speaking sarcastically with your superior, would you, my dear?"
"But, sir, I was only attempting to please you, sir."
Shuddering, Wesker adjusted himself until he was pressing his erection against the inside of Jill's thigh. "You'll regret your words, Jill," he growled. Jill laughed quietly, smirking up at her captain.
"No, sir, I don't believe I will."
"And why not?"
"Because, sir," she started, "I hold no regrets."
Wesker suddenly bit down on Jill's neck and sucked, forcing a surprised shriek that quickly turned into a needy moan from Jill. When Wesker finally pulled away, Jill knew she'd be wearing turtlenecks for a week if she wanted the least amount of questions from the guys. She'd gotten enough from Chris when she'd mentioned she had a date.
"Say it again," Wesker whispered, his voice heavy with desire.
"Captain--." And that was all it took before Wesker was inside Jill, his mouth at her ear and all along her jawline while he kept a pace that left Jill incoherent and able to do nothing but say his name as he released all of his pent up frustrations and stress.
After a few minutes he slowed, his face looking softer to Jill as she cracked open her eyes to look at him. Wesker gave her a thoughtful look, then pressed his lips to hers and kissed her passionately. She squirmed beneath him and he changed his thrusting to match the rhythm of their kissing—slow and sensual at first, then quicker and harder as Jill groaned into his mouth and he kissed her with more fervor.
"Jill," Wesker grunted as he broke off their kiss, "do you regret your words yet?"
Jill wrapped her fingers in Wesker's hair and pulled his face back to her. "I already told you, Captain: I hold no regrets." She locked her lips back onto his and bit down, hard, on his bottom lip, until she knew it would be bruised and swollen for the days to come. "How could you possibly think," she continued, breathy as Wesker continued thrusting into her relentlessly while his hands held her own down, as if to give her the impression of being trapped, "I could regret this?"
Eyes narrowing slightly as he sucked in the sore spot on his bottom lip, Wesker let out a strained chuckle. "My apologies, my dear, but I'm afraid that one day you may."
"You underestimate me," Jill quipped, and at the onset of the sudden conversation, Wesker simply stopped, and, still deep inside Jill, purposefully caused the woman undue discomfort.
"Do I?"
"Yes," she said, her voice slightly strained as she wiggled her hips in desperation beneath him, "though maybe you should stick around for awhile and find out for yourself how wrong you are."
"Perhaps I will." With nary another word, Wesker continued what he had started until the two of them were lying beside one another, soaked in sweat, out of breath, and completely spent.
Hours later, Jill laid curled in the crook of Wesker's arm, both of them still completely naked. She traced her fingertips across her captain's washboard abs before resting her hand on his waist.
"Is it often you allow a man to take you so ravenously on the first date?" Wesker queried suddenly.
Blushing, Jill hid her face against Wesker's side. "No," she mumbled. "Never, honestly."
Wesker chuckled. "And why am I so special?"
She was blushing so deeply she was sure Wesker could feel the heat radiating from her face. "Just a... huge crush and a dirty fantasy, sir." She pressed against him tighter, seeking his warmth as she admitted her fatal flaw for him. "Who am I to pass up an opportunity...?" Jill raised her head to look up at Wesker's face.
His sunglasses off, Jill was finally able to appreciate how strange he looked without them.
Wesker locked eyes with Jill long enough for a longing to flare back up within her. She shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut, nuzzling her face to his chest.
"You're rather easy to read," Wesker announced. "It's my suggestion that you work on that." His fingertips brushed against Jill's ass before his entire hand finally settled on one cheek, squeezing just hard enough to make Jill uncomfortable.
"Is that why you...?"
"Yes."
Jill stayed silent for a few minutes, thinking.
"What do we tell the guys?" she implored.
Wesker moved his hand from her ass and set it on her head, ruffling her hair slightly, a small smile on his face. "Absolutely nothing, my dear." Without warning, Wesker was atop Jill, a growing erection pressing into her thigh. Pressing his lips to her ear, he purred, "What they don't know won't hurt them."
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Saturday
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It was Saturday again, nine o'clock in the morning, and Jill was still entwined in the sheets with her captain. Wesker, snoring lightly, was still dead to the world with one arm draped over Jill's stomach and a leg resting atop one of her own when she awoke.
The morning was cold, though sun peeked through her bedroom curtains and created a thin beam of light that stretched all the way to her bedroom door before fading into the wood. Jill felt around on the bed for the comforter that had slid off them sometime during the night, and then, grasping the edge of it, managed to pull it back over herself and Wesker, before turning and snuggling against the man's chest. Typical man, he was radiating heat and, combined with the comforter, Jill was warmed within minutes.
After wondering for awhile when Wesker would finally wake up (though if he slept all day Jill wouldn't blame him), Jill fell into a comfortable doze, waking up at every small movement and sound from her bedmate.
When Wesker finally woke, the first words out of his mouth were, "What's for breakfast?"
Jill laughed. "The dinner we never got around to eating last night."
"Ah, yes," he said. "I do recall you mentioning that dinner you cooked for me..."
"Shortly before I put it away and came back to pass out in bed with you?"
"Perhaps."
She punched Wesker lightly in the side under the covers before sitting up. The comforter and sheet fell from her chest and she wrapped her arms around her breasts to conserve heat. Wesker stared at her, having not moved an inch since he woke, while a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Jill, ignoring Wesker's morning erection tenting the covers, slid her legs over the edge of the bed, intending to stand up and search for something to throw on. "If you help me find my clothes, I'll go out and get breakfast ready for us," she offered, looking back at him over her shoulder. After a moment, Wesker sat up and slid out of bed, his erection now gone. As Jill watched, he bent down and scooped up his sunglasses, placing them delicately back on his face. Then, he tossed his shirt and Jill's pants at her before slipping his boxers on.
He stalked out into the other room, saying he was going to make some coffee.
Jill stared at the now-open bedroom door for a few moments, nonplussed as the image of Wesker walking around in her apartment with nothing on but his boxers and his sunglasses stuck in her brain. His sunglasses? Of all articles of clothing to put back on, his sunglasses? She was almost surprised he even had the decency to put his boxers back on. Shaking her head and shrugging off his strange behavior, she slipped on her pants, hardly bothered to put on underwear (it wasn't as if she was expecting company besides the captain, after all), and then the captain's shirt, which dwarfed her. She rolled up the sleeves and tucked the bottom into her pants before following Wesker's departure.
The man in question was searching through her cupboards for her instant coffee packets. He found them as Jill approached the kitchenette and was opening the fridge to drag out the pot of leftover pasta. Setting it heavily on the nearby counter, she grabbed two bowls out of a cupboard, then opened a drawer and retrieved two forks. She scooped a helping of noodles into each bowl, then held one out to Wesker.
"Would you like some sauce or salt to put on it?"
Wesker accepted the bowl of cold noodles graciously, but shook his head at her offer. "No, they're fine this way."
Jill's jaw dropped. "Not only cold, but plain noodles?"
Grinning at her, but not offering any explanation, Wesker leaned against the kitchen bar counter and started eating while he waited for his coffee to finish. Jill continued to stare, her own bowl of noodles in her hand. And she had thought that Chris was odd? Wesker took the cake!
"My lady," Wesker said, and pointed at Jill with his fork, "if you don't close your mouth soon, I may take it as an invitation."
She snapped her mouth shut and immediately turned to the microwave to hide her blush.
By the time the microwave was beeping to indicate her noodles were warmed up, Wesker's coffee was ready. He poured himself a cup while Jill added butter and salt to her noodles. Jill lead the way to the couch, and once the two were sitting down, Jill turned on the TV, changing channels until she found the news.
"Wesker," Jill began, "who works nights and weekends for S.T.A.R.S.?" In her five months and three weeks with S.T.A.R.S., Jill had hardly thought to find out, though she assumed it could only be the other team that currently made up S.T.A.R.S., Bravo.
"Bravo team, my dear," Wesker answered after sucking down his mouthful of noodles. "Though in the case of extreme situations such as the one two weeks ago, all squads are called in." His noodles finished, he slipped his free arm around Jill and pulled her closer. She didn't resist, cuddling against his body while she ate. "Being a member of S.T.A.R.S. means that you are always on-call. But you knew that, right?" He smiled at her, stroking the skin of her arm lovingly.
"Yes, of course, sir," Jill responded. "I was just...confirming an assumption."
A hammering fist on the apartment door interrupted as Wesker was sliding his hand down Jill's side and slowly tugging his shirt from her pants. His eyes narrowed in the direction of the door.
"Who's here?" he growled at Jill, and she sighed.
"Chris, if I go by the urgency of the knocking." She stood and handed the rest of her noodles to Wesker. "Why don't you go lay down for awhile?"
"Hm." Wesker took Jill's bowl and retreated to her bedroom, darkly muttering something about "Redfield always finding some way to bother me" before he closed the door, quietly, and Jill heard the springs in her mattress squeak as he laid down.
The knocking continued, even more frantically, and when Jill finally opened the door, Chris nearly hit her in the face with his fist.
"Oh! Sorry, Jill!" Chris sidestepped around Jill and let himself in, and his first instinct was to head into her kitchenette and have some of whatever was in the pot on the counter. Jill rolled her eyes and closed the door before taking a seat on one of the stools in front of the bar.
His mouth full of food, Chris leaned against the other side of the bar and asked, "How'd your date go?" Though, without Jill's "Chris-Has-Food-In-His-Mouth" filter it sounded more like, "Owd or ate o?"
Jill smiled fondly. "It was...great, Chris. He was a perfect gentleman."
Chris's face fell, but he covered it up instantly by shoving more noodles into his mouth. Jill's smile faded. Chris was a good friend, and had been there for her since her time with Delta Force. Hell, she'd even been one of the deciding factors that convinced him to join S.T.A.R.S. along with Barry. Problem was, she didn't want to hurt him, but she wasn't interested in him, and she couldn't lie to him—especially not with her date probably eavesdropping in the other room.
"I'm sorry, Chris," Jill said, sadly. She reached over and grabbed his hand, holding his fingers tightly. "You know how I feel about you... You're like a brother to me."
"I know, I know. But you don't need to apologize—I'm the one who's sorry. I should be happy for you, not putting on a pity party for myself." He gripped her hand and held it out between them, a huge grin on his face. "BFFs forever, right, Jill?"
She grinned back and laughed, shoving his fist back toward him as she released her fingers from his. He mocked stumbling backward and losing his balance, nearly toppling into the other counter. Catching himself easily with a hand on it, he righted himself and went back to his noodles.
"Whatever you say, Chris." But she couldn't help but agree with it.
Finished with his first bowl of noodles, Chris turned and went for more. "So, who is this guy anyway?" he said, glancing at Jill over his shoulder. "You can't keep him a secret from me forever, you know!"
"We'll see about that."
"What?" Chris returned to the bar with his refilled bowl and resumed leaning against it. "Is he shy or something? In the secret service? CIA? FBI?"
Snorting at the very idea, Jill said, "Nothing that fancy. He's a police officer, like us."
"With RPD?"
"Not our precinct, but yes."
"Do I know him?"
"No, Chris." Jill shook her head, knowing she would never hear the end of this until he found out, but also knowing that the rest of S.T.A.R.S. didn't need to know. "Think of it as like a forbidden love."
Chris exploded, and bits of noodle flew over the bar. "Is he married? Are you his mistress?"
Jill wiped noodle from the side of her face, frowning. "Don't jump to conclusions! And swallow before you talk!"
"Sorry, Jill. I'll clean it up, don't worry!" Chris finished his noodles in a flash and was wiping the bar down seconds later. Jill would have been amazed if she didn't know he was doing it to impress her. She sighed. He was her lovestruck puppy.
"Anyway, I really can't tell you more."
"Come on! You can tell me anything!"
Jill decided to give Chris a little bit of the truth, to satisfy him. "You wouldn't like him, Chris. And I know that you'd go off and beat him up if I told you who he was, or if he ever did something to upset me."
"You're damn right, I would!" He gave her a determined stare, pausing in his wiping of the bar. Quick as lightning, fury and distrust filled his countenance.
"Like I'm going to do right fucking now!" As if to display his machismo, Chris vaulted over the bar and landed next to Jill, gripping the baggy t-shirt that wasn't quite hers gruffly and examining something on her neck.
Something that had made him very, very upset.
Jill swore to herself and yanked away from Chris's grasp. She slapped her hand over the noticeable hickey on her neck and turned from Chris's gaze, her cheeks red hot with embarrassment and anger.
"A hickey, Jill? And his t-shirt?" Chris pulled at the loose material again, but Jill slapped his hand away. "Is he still here? Goddamn it, Jill, who the fuck is this guy?" Shouting at her now, Jill responded to Chris in kind.
"It's none of your business who he is, Chris! He didn't hurt me!"
Chris scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, not persuaded.
"Don't act like you've never come to work after a big date with a huge ass hickey on your neck, Chris," Jill spat. "Don't you even try."
His face softened and his shoulders slumped as Jill glared at him.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, shame forcing his gaze to his feet. "I shouldn't have overreacted."
"You're right," Jill interjected. "You shouldn't have."
"I just see bruises on your neck--."
"A bruise."
"--a bruise on your neck, and my instincts kick in. I'm just concerned about you, Jill." Chris shuffled his feet, awkwardly, before meeting Jill's eyes once again. "This is the first guy you've been with since you retired from Delta Force—the first guy I've ever been around to help protect you from. Can't...can't you understand how I feel?"
Jill, though she didn't uncover the hickey and certainly wasn't done being mad at him yet, gave Chris a small smile and nodded at him. "Don't worry about it, Chris. I understand perfectly." She could forgive him, for something that was so utterly Chris—completely within his nature.
Chris brightened, his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, and he almost instantly reached out to touch her hand covering her neck. With another hard smack from her free hand, Jill shook her head at Chris's bullheadedness, then leaned on her palm. "Go home, BFF. You're not getting anything else out of me today."
Chris, saddened, said his goodbyes, telling Jill he'd see her on Monday. Jill told Chris she was glad he'd stopped by, an amused smile on her face, taunting him.
Wesker emerged minutes later and took the empty stool next to Jill.
"BFFs, huh," he said, amusement tinging his voice.
"Yeah." Jill chuckled and slid her hand onto Wesker's thigh. "He looks up to you, you know."
"Does he now?" Wesker seemed to contemplate this, his mouth slackening as he thought. Then, he smirked. "How interesting."
"I feel bad, but I hope he never finds out." Jill gave Wesker a mournful look and the man shrugged.
"Why, my dear?"
"Because I wouldn't want you to hurt him too bad when he tried to beat you up."
"Ah, yes," Wesker said, his voice silky and low. "That would be a problem."
But Jill knew that in a team as close as S.T.A.R.S., no secret was safe forever.
--------------------
Sunday
--------------------
It was Sunday again, and Jill was laying in bed next to Wesker for the second day in a row, trying to figure out whether this had been one long date, or if each day counted as another date. Hands behind her head, she slid a leg over Wesker's and tickled the inside of his calf. Wesker, chuckling, reversed the position of their legs and pinned Jill's unmercifully to the bed. Now trapped, Jill pulled an arm out from behind her head and ran her fingers down Wesker's side until her captain's breath was hitching and she could see him strain not to laugh or flinch away from her touch.
As Jill moved toward more tender, ticklish areas, Wesker snatched her hand and held her by the wrist, pulling her open palm over to his stomach before pressing it flat, covering her hand with his free one, his fingers slipping just under her palm to hold it, then releasing her wrist, having effectively trapped her hand as well as her leg. Jill feigned anger, turning her head away from his watchful gaze, but it wasn't long before she was drawn straight back to his face, and his ever-present sunglasses.
"Captain," Jill started, but Wesker interrupted her.
"Please, Jill," he said, "we're alone. You are free to call me Albert."
She almost snickered at the name, reminded of the office cat, though Albert the cat and Albert the person looked almost nothing alike. Instead, she corrected herself. "Albert," and Jill felt more than a little odd using her captain's first name, "what's up the with the sunglasses?" Jill raised her eyebrows expectantly.
"My eyes are rather sensitive to light," he answered, as if the question was nothing at all.
Jill, somehow, managed to lean on her elbow and give Wesker an odd, questioning look. "Then why do you wear them in the middle of the night?"
"The moon is bright too, sometimes--."
"Sometimes."
"--but mostly because they have other uses."
"Such as?"
Wesker released Jill's hand to tip his sunglasses down to the end of his nose. His eyes now visible, he gave Jill a long, hard stare.
"It's much easier to intimidate people if they can't see your eyes, Jill." He pushed his sunglasses back up to the bridge of his nose, explanation finished.
Despite the seriousness, Jill couldn't help but laugh. "Captain—Albert, with eyes like yours, I don't think you need sunglasses to intimidate people." Rolling over on top of Wesker, her legs straddling his hips, she traced her fingers around the musculature of his chest. "How long have you been wearing sunglasses almost 24/7?"
"Since I was a child," Wesker splayed his hands over Jill's thighs while his countenance turned thoughtful. "It started as a simple relief from the light, and then when I—an impressionable child, remember—realized how 'cool' I looked, I stopped taking them off. They became my defining feature. Perhaps it's simply habit now."
"And a form of intimidation, don't forget."
Wesker smiled, realizing Jill was mocking him. "Right." He slid his hands up Jill's thighs and settled around her waist. "Jill," he said, quietly, and as soon as Jill was focused on his face, Wesker flipped them, pinning Jill to the bed with his body. "Are you intimidated by me, Jill Valentine?" he cooed against Jill's neck.
"No, Albert Wesker. I am not."
As quickly as he'd pinned her, Wesker released Jill, rolling off and away from her to slip off the bed. "Good," he replied, pulling on his boxers and then his pants.
Jill raised an eyebrow. He hadn't been fully dressed since Friday. What was the occasion?
"You leaving?" she questioned, gesturing toward his pants when he glanced back at her.
"I'm taking you out to dinner tonight," he responded, "and since public nudity is usually frowned upon..."
"Oh, but I'd love to see your apartment!" Jill immediately sat up and jumped out of bed. "Just let me take a shower and get ready and we can head over to yours so you can do the same, okay?"
Wesker frowned, and Jill knew she'd hit the spot she was looking to bother. No one on S.T.A.R.S. (except perhaps Enrico Marini) had seen or even knew where Wesker's apartment was located. With a huge grin on her face at being closer to S.T.A.R.S.'s beloved captain than any other team member, Jill grabbed a casual dress from her closet and some clean underwear from her drawer before heading off to the bathroom before Wesker could say no.
Jill heard his protests as she stepped into the bathroom and started the shower water.
"It'd be much quicker if I went home now and returned--."
"No, Albert!" Jill shouted back over the din of the water. "I'm dying to see your place!"
Wesker stalked past the open bathroom door, fully clothed, while he ran his hands back through his hair in an attempt to temporarily tame it. His gel had worn out after Friday's activities and his blond locks had been a veritable mess since.
Jill poked her head out and called after him. "Don't leave while I'm in the shower," she half-threatened.
"I wouldn't dream of it, Jill," Wesker called back.
Seconds later, Jill was under the hot water of the shower, soaking her hair and body. For a few minutes, she simply stood in the spray, letting the water massage her muscles, sore from sex and play-fighting with Wesker.
Footsteps on the bathroom's linoleum floor alerted Jill to Wesker's presence. When he opened the curtain and stepped in with her, she was hardly surprised. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her toward him until his erection was digging into her back.
"I told you I wouldn't dream of leaving," he murmured over the water.
"I guess we're cutting down the time until dinner, huh?"
"Something like that."
And an hour later, when they'd exhausted all of the hot water, were squeaky clean and thoroughly satisfied, Jill was dressed and ready to head to Wesker's apartment so the man could change into something more appropriate (his cargo pants and undershirt not quite cutting it for a fancy restaurant) and fix his hair (Jill had refused to let him use her hairspray, in fear that her captain would use the entire can). Wesker was dallying in the bathroom, brushing his hair neatly back with Jill's brush. Jill tapped her foot at him impatiently, and though the glasses were in the way, she felt his stare through the mirror.
"No one's going to see it in the car, Albert," she chided. "I swear, you're worse than a woman."
He smirked, as if proud of his grooming habits. "So I've been told." But with one more run-through with Jill's brush, Wesker acquiesced to Jill's unspoken demand.
"Nice car," Jill remarked outside the apartment building, sliding her fingers delicately along the shining crimson metal of Wesker's car before she reached for the passenger's side door to open it. Wesker was at her side in moments, gently pushing away her hand and then opening the door for her with a bow. Jill put a hand over her mouth in mock surprise, then slid into the seat. After closing her door, Wesker briskly walked to the driver's side and got in.
"Do you live far?" Jill asked, leaning her elbow against the car door and holding the side of her head in her palm while she watched Wesker.
"Not as far as you'd think," he answered, noncommittal and secretive. Jill could tell by the tensed muscle in his jaw that he was irked by this.
Jill set her hand on Wesker's thigh and lightly squeezed it. "I'm not going to tell the guys, Albert," she assured him. "Besides, that would mean telling them about our date. And if Chris's reaction to my hickey is any indication..."
"They're all very fond of you. None of them would take it well." Wesker let out a bark of laughter. "I can already hear their reactions..."
Jill laughed as well. "Joseph would say, 'I knew it!' and tease us mercilessly."
"Barry would talk to you about how I'm 'too old' for a pretty young girl like yourself."
"And Chris would storm right into your office and demand a duel before throwing a suckerpunch."
A topic of conversation now engaged, Jill and Wesker discussed the various ways Chris would react to the news, most of which involved Chris challenging Wesker to some sort of duel (the most lucrative involving large fish to slap one another with). By the time Wesker was pulling into a parking space outside a gorgeous-looking apartment building, Jill realized she had very little idea the route Wesker had taken to get her there.
She scoffed, but memorized the address to the building, not willing to be thwarted by Wesker's successful distraction.
Wesker pulled open Jill's door and proffered his hand, which Jill took, gratefully, and allowed herself to be helped out of the car. Jill shut the car door behind herself, and Wesker locked the doors to his car, before, still holding Jill's hand, he led her inside. Three stories up in a spotless elevator and they were deposited in Wesker's penthouse apartment.
"This is... wow." Jill was awestruck at the sheer beauty of the apartment. There was rich hardwood flooring and walls painted a deep blue and furniture to match; black marble counter tops and stainless steel appliances in the kitchen; a glass slider door and a wide panoramic window were situated between the living room and kitchen, providing access to the terrace. To Jill's immediate right was a winding set of stairs that Wesker was already headed up. She could see the dining room through the aperture in the wall directly across from her.
Jill was in heaven. She walked across the floor, her heels clacking against the wood and echoing in the large space, and peered out the slider door. On the terrace, there were a few tables with one or two chairs next to them, but the most appealing object to Jill were the pool and the jacuzzi. It'd been years since she'd had private access to either. Simply seeing them and Jill very nearly told Wesker they could have dinner another night, and if he would excuse her, she was going to strip her clothing and jump right into his pool stark naked.
Slowly, Jill came back to her senses, and she sat herself down on one of the couches, sinking comfortably into the upholstery. As she came back to her senses, she was troubled. S.T.A.R.S. members were paid fairly well, but not this well. How could Wesker possibly afford a place as luxurious as this? Even if it was only a one bedroom, it was still two floors, plus a terrace, pool and jacuzzi, not to mention the sheer size of it.
Knowing Wesker could be in the bathroom for awhile as he gelled back his hair, Jill returned to the front door and took off her heels, placing them on the shoe rack near the stairs. Then, she padded up the stairs after Wesker, intent on seeing the master bedroom.
More hardwood floor greeted her at the top of the circular staircase, but the walls upstairs were painted a brilliant crimson with, once again, matching furniture. A slider door to the right of Wesker's king-sized, canopy bed led out onto a balcony. Jill, recalling what she'd seen out on the terrace, knew that another set of circular stairs connected the balcony to the terrace, allowing quick access to the master bedroom.
What appeared to be Wesker's office was immediately visible to Jill's right, the door left open. With a glance at what she could only assume was the bathroom, to make sure Wesker wasn't on his way out, Jill quietly slipped into the office.
A multitude of high, wooden bookshelves lined the walls, each filled to the brim with a wide assortment of texts—from fiction to massive medical and science tomes. Almost instantly, Jill spotted one of her favorite novels from when she was in high school—The Stand by Stephen King. Smiling, and continuing to peruse Wesker's book collection, she noticed an affinity for both horror novels (Wesker had a Stephen King collection rivaling her own) and those concerning virus outbreaks and post-apocalyptic situations.
Jill wandered over to Wesker's desk and looked over the papers strewn across it and around his computer monitor. While curious about whom Wesker was corresponding with (some of the letters appeared to be from old friends, and Jill couldn't help but want to know more about anyone who had known Wesker longer than she had), Jill kept herself from disturbing anything on his desk.
After a few minutes of reading what she could on his desk, she retreated from his office and backtracked to the staircase. From there, she walked to his bed and sat down on the end of it. She had no desire to incur Wesker's anger for intruding upon his personal space. Best he think she had just come from the stairs—if he was watching outside the bathroom through the mirror—than from his office.
"Albert," Jill called as she leaned back into his bed, reveling in the soft silk sheet that covered it, "how the hell do you afford this place?" She turned her head and looked through the bathroom door, watching Wesker.
"Inheritance," he answered almost automatically.
"Oh." Jill frowned. "I'm sorry for your loss--."
"I never knew him."
"Who was it? Your father? Grandfather?"
Wesker paused, as if he didn't quite know what to say. "Father," he finally said, though quietly.
Jill ran her fingers along his sheets, wishing she could feel every inch of the silk against her naked body. She smiled. Maybe when they got back from dinner, if he was up to it...and didn't send her home with the excuse of needing to get up for work the next day. "What did your father do for a living?" Jill asked, the last question she had for Wesker.
"He was a scientist for Umbrella." Another automatic response. It seemed, Jill thought, that this wasn't the first time he'd been asked about his apparent fortune.
Emerging from the bathroom moments later, Wesker stepped over to his bureau and pulled out a suit coat, slipping it on. With his black suit, shirt and red tie, Wesker matched his bedroom perfectly, and Jill suppressed a giggle at this. The man was color-coordinated, and probably a little OCD, if his hair and the perfectly clean apartment was any indication.
He held out his hand—palm up, fingers slightly curved—to Jill and she grabbed it, smiling brightly at him.
"Where are you treating me to dinner, Captain Wesker?"
Grinning at the moniker, Wesker swept his free arm out, toward the stairs and bowed slightly. "Let's leave and you shall see, my dear Jill."
Jill let herself be led away by her captain, thinking all the while that her fears for this first date with him had been for nothing. The entire weekend had been friendly and natural—as if they had been best friends for years, and dating had been the next welcome step up in the relationship.
And as they left Wesker's apartment building and took what he had called a "short walk" to the restaurant, Jill was determined to make the first move for their third date, because there was no doubt in her mind that there wouldn't be.
Author's Notes:
(1) S.T.A.R.S.'s office cat is a reference to A Cat Named Wesker by the crazy hobos of doom. I highly suggest you go read it, because it's hilarious.