A/N: Written by request for magentafeelings92. The prompt being Wesker/Chris in a Christmas scenario. Not sure whether this was quite what you were expecting Vix, but there is Wesker. There is Chris. There is Wesker/Chris man-on-man action. There is a S.T.A.R.S. Christmas party. There is even some sketchy Brad/Jill. Anyways. Don't worry. Next year will be better ;)
Thrill me
"I really need a cigarette."
Chris Redfield leaned awkwardly against his desk, watching as complete and utter carnage unfolded in front of him. "Yep..." he muttered, just about managing to pour himself yet another shot of tequila, "Whoever thought of this needs to be dragged out in to the streets and shot."
Chris had witnessed many a thing in his lifetime. His brief stint in the U.S. Airforce had opened his eyes to a few things, and a year long career in being one of the elite S.T.A.R.S members did not come without its fair share of drama. But nothing had ever prepared him for the chaos that could come from an office Christmas party. Held in the cramped S.T.A.R.S. office of all places. His eyes followed his once respected friends and colleagues dissipated in to drunken idiots against a repeat blast of Elvis Presley;s "Blue Christmas" from the staff tape recorder.
"Hey Chris!" called Joseph, shimmying up to him with a wide smile on his face and a martini glass in his hand, "whassup man, lighten up a little! It's CHRISTMAAAS!"
"So it is, Joseph," he replied morosely, before downing his tequila swiftly. "So it is."
"What's up with that face, Redfield? You look like someone's just died..."
"My parents died at Christmas, " he said simply, looking Joseph square in the eye. "Car crash.."
Joseph's eyebrows furrowed, and tried to read the expression on Chris's face. Finally, broke in to nervous laughter.
"So funny man!" he grinned, and patted his comrade on the shoulder clumsily. "You're so witty!"
"Yeah," Chris answered, unsmiling, "I suppose I am."
A loud crash from the other side of the office diverted the two men's attention .
"Oh look" guess Forrest has blown it again with the ladies," Joseph remarked.
Sure enough, Forrest was being repeatedly pushed around by the new medic Sue.
"Not another one.." Chris groaned, as a pretty pink cocktail was slowly poured over Forrest's beautiful head.
"Guess Wesker'll have to recruit a new medic," Joseph whistled, as Sue stamped out of the office, Forrest and Kenneth chasing after her.
"No doubt about it," agreed Barry,, who seemed to appear out of nowhere wearing a Santa hat.
"Hey Barry." said Joseph politely, already looking bored.
"Chris," his old partner said, a quiver evident in his voice., "I think I've finally blown it with Kathy."
"I'm gonna get another drink," Joseph announced, fleeing the scene. Chris sighed audibly,
"Barry, what have you done this time?"
Barry' shuffled uncomfortably. "I don't want to burden you unnecessarily, Chris, not when it's Christmas, y'know? But I think Kathy is sick of all of this. The late nights, the drug raids, me not being there for her and the girls. Oh my GOD Chris, I think this is really it!"
Chris grimaced, and took Barry's empty whiskey glass from Barry's hands. "That's why she didn't turn up to the party, huh?"
Barry's eyes moistened. "She's given me an ultimatum. It S.T.A.R.S. or her and the girls. I can't do this anymore Chris. I need to talk to Wesker. My family are everything to me."
"Barry-"
"Yeah, Chris. Forget it. Sorry to bother you/. Look, I'm gonna call a cab, I'm just putting a dampener on everyone."
"Really, you can't make this party any worse than it already is." Chris insisted in utter sincerity. "Ed was on to something when he decided to give this a miss."
Barry and Chris watched as a disturbed looking Kevin held up an increasingly green Richard.
"You know, I really thought Richard would know better than to go over his limit like that," said Chris thoughtfully.
"Men must lay down their shield at some points, Chris," said Barry sagely.
Richard vomited in to a bucket as Chris wrinkled his nose. ""Yeah. Or more like THROW down their shields."
It took a few seconds until Barry fully grasped the meaning behind Chris's bad joke. The two men looked each other in the eye and exploded in to fits of loud laughter.
"My GOD Chris," Barry gabbled, "i just love your sense of humour!"
"Well," Chris said modestly, "you don't do so bad yourself, Barry."
"We had some good times when we were partners, huh?" Barry said thoughtfully, drying the tears from his eyes with the back of his sleeve.
"Sure did."
Barry stood thoughtfully for a moment, lost in the deep complexities of his mind.
"Go make things up with Kathy," Chris said at last. "You still have time.
Barry smiled weakly, and delivered a slight wave, and headed off to collect his coat and scarf. "Hey guys," he called across to the remainder of the party across a blasting of Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas, "I'm heading off, so I'll see you in 1998. I suppose..."
"Aw Barry, Jill called across, waving her beer bottle in the air in protest, "not you too! Stay a little-HEY! Brad, that is MY camera!"
Barry looked sheepish, made his goodbyes with Enrico and Kevin, and departed the sorry scene. Chris rolled his eyes as Jill play-wrestled with Brad, who held her camera high in the air.
Chris watched as Enrico danced clumsily to the festive music. Of course, Enrico would be happy about this, being that it was his idea to throw such a party in the first place. How could just one man have so many pointless ideas? Beside, this was actually the second Christmas staff party that had been organised in the precinct - the first having included all the police personnel from the building, from secretary to sergeant, and took place in on the more snazzy bars in downtown Racoon City. That hadn't been so bad., as Chris felt better in large crowd situations. But then Martinez and Wesker had seemingly decided it would be good to have the team get to mingle with each other in a more personal setting, and set a more private do in the confines of their own office. This wasn't at all a bad idea in concept, Chris grudgingly admitted, since S.T.A.R.S. had only existed a year. It was crucial that they got to know each other better But on the last day before Christmas break, wearing ridiculous hats whilst consuming excessive amounts of liquor?
"Enrico," Chris called out, taking in the ridiculous sight of a drunken Enrico dancing a number from Saturday Night Fever. "Hey man, you seen Wesker?"
"Wooo Christian!" he slurred, dancing over and nearly tripping over Richard's bucket. Kevin shot them a dirty look, in which Chris held up his hands in his own defence.
"Hey, it's not Christian, Martinez, it's....never mind.."
Chris sighed impatiently, as Enrico's eyes glassed over. "Whassup with everyone? It's Christmas!"
"Yeah!" sbouted Joseph, slapping Enrico a high five and delivering a few nifty dance moves of his own. "We need to get more dance moves down here! WHO AGREES WITH ME?"
"Now you're talking!" called out Jill, who had an arm slung around a slightly confused Brad. She adjusted the glittery holly head and took the opportunity to snatch the camera from Brad. She promptly switched off the Christmas music (which had somehow landed on Silent Night) and searched her desk for a replacement.
Chris watched her with a feeling of dread This would not take Jill long. She was notorious for being extremely well organised in the office, unlike himself, who had trouble keeping things in order. Jill often teased him for it, told him that come the Apocalypse, he wouldn't know what to do with himself. Much to his annoyance, he had to admit Jill was right. In fact, more often than not, she was always right, and everyone knew it.
Not today however. Not if she found that tape she was looking for...
"Tada!" Jill slurred triumphantly, holding up her treasure. "Gentlemen, behold: the Ultimate Dance MIx!"
Joseph punched the air in excitement, as Brad started to look a little worried,
"Uh, I think I'll sit this out," he said, his voice low, but clear in the echo of the dingy office.
"Looks like Chickenheart's afraid of a little dancin'" jibed Joseph, and blew a party whistle in emphasis.
"Oh Brad," Jill said, her voice even lower than normal, "it's just a bit of fun, ." She leant in slower to him, and held up the camera to snap a picture. "we're all friends here.." She moved in to give him a soft peck on the cheek, seemingly oblivious to the deep shade of red that her captive had turned.
"I guess...I can try..." he managed bashfully.
They both smiled as the camera bathed them in white flash.
"Fantastic," she said happily, setting the camera back in to the drawer with a resounding thud. "i think I'll frame that."
"So what's on the tape, Jill," said Kevin, who had left Richard on the seats outside the office.
"Whoa boys, let's wait and see!" Jill teased lightly, and deftly placed the offending article in the tape player. She shut the door with a clank. "First up we have-"
"Hoo boy..." Chris muttered under his breath"
There was silence among the ranks as the intro of the first song played. Then the room exploded in to excitement, amongst the small group.
"THRILLER!" shouted Joseph excitedly."
"Line up quickly!" shouted Enrico.
"Come on Vickers!" Jill giggled, already in position. He reluctantly took his place, shuffling awkwardly to the beat. He shot Chris a sad look, and then resigned himself to his tragic fate as Jill's nominated dance partner.
Chris watched as Enrico , Kevin, Brad , Jill and Joseph danced clumsily to the music. With one final look of pain, he made a move to escape, and closed the door silently behind him.
Chris and music just did not mix.
"Night Richard," he said, barely looking at Richard snoring form on the seats outside.
Man. He really needed that cigarette.
It wasn't long before he found himself outside the Police Department building, and, he took a deep breath as the cold winter air filled his nostrils.
"Good American air," he sighed, fumbling in his jeans pockets for his favourite lighter and a loose cigarette. "Second only to good old toxic smoke."
He popped the cigarette tight between his lips, and lit the end with speedy abandon. He exhaled deeply, feeling his stress levels decrease with his outtake of air.
"Well well, look what we have here."
Chris closed his eyes for a brief moment, before opening them to meet his addresser.
"I was wondering when you'd turn up," Chris remarked sourly, continuing to enjoy his cigarette.
"I had more pressing matters to attend to," Wesker drawled. the lenses of his sunglasses momentarily lighting up in the darkness.
"Hmph," grunted Chris, leaning lazily against the brick wall of the building, "so you always do, Captain."
Wesker sneered slightly, and then run a hand through his slicked back hair. "I'm surprised to find you out here alone, not joining in the festive felicitations that your colleagues have to offer?"
"I could survive it until the dancing part," Chris confessed, taking another puff, ignoring Wesker's distaste. "Thriller...I don't care for that 80's nostalgia crap. I mean, dancing like creepy-ass zombies, what' the hell is up with that?"
Wesker pursed his lips, and for a moment Chris wished that he could see those eyes, again hidden by those ridiculous sunglasses. Wesker his a lot of himself behind those glasses, a mystery that Chris had taken on himself to unravel.
"You should really try to engage in group activities, Chris." Wesker reprimanded, his lips turning upwards in a half-smirk. "Teamwork is a crucial factor in ensuring that S.T.A.R.S. remains elite."
"Teamwork?" scoffed Chris,"Yeah, right.. We're too different to fully gel together. Hey, in one corner we have Enrico "Wise Guy" Martinez, who only cares about himself, himself, and himself. In another, we have Forrest Speyer, resident womaniser. He owes us another medic, by the way."
"Interesting," said Wesker, folding his arms.
"Edward Dewey's heart really isn't in the job," Chris continued, "I hear he wants to leave to raise police dogs, or somethin'. I give him six months at most. Chickenheart can't hold a gun without wetting his pants, and Valentine is just using this position as a springboard for promotion. There's no way someone with her talents would put up with crap otherwise."
"Well well, I must say Chris, your pessimism is truly...inspiring..." said Wesker in a low drone. "But where does that leave you, celebrated marksman, in this motley of misfits?"
Chris took one last searching glance in to the face of his captain, and threw down his cigarette. he took a step forward, and before he could lose his nerve, outstretched a hand and pulled Wesker closer by his shirt collar. Wesker, clearly startled but generally unfazed, grabbed a hold of Chris's wrist, his grip strong and unflinching. Chris briefly considered loosening his grip and pushing Wesker away, but his drink-addled brain changed direction and pressed his mouth hungrily to the other man's.
The comfort of feeling Wesker's lips against his was somewhat comforting, and yet disconcerting at the same time. It was Wesker who usually made the first move when it came to sex, and made sure he was never the passive receptor. It felt strange to have Wesker submit to him that way, willingly parting lips to make way for Chris's tongue to meld with his, for Chris to continue clutching on to his collar as if his life depended on it.
Finally, Chris tore himself away, and relinquished his grip on the other man. Wesker acknowledged him smugly, and wiped the back of his hand lazily against him mouth.
"Wesker, could I ask you a question?"
"You already know the answer," Wesker purred, pushing him hard against the wall where he had been leaning just minutes ago.
Chris closed his eyes. It would be so easy just to let Wesker take the lead then and there, lose himself in those skilful hands and block out the miserable Christmas that awaited him. But something was off, something that had been bugging his for a while, ever since he had gotten close to Wesker...
"Wesker...I've never seen you drink..." he blurted out, shivering as one of Wesker's leather gloved hands began stroking his abdomen.
This sudden outburst seemed to amuse him, and he drew his lips close to Chris's ear. "Well, no. For one thing, I was not at your little get together, besides, I do not approve of becoming slave to artificial emotion."
"You're talking crap."
"Am I?" Wesker murmured, a hand finding his way beneath Chris' s shirt. Chris shivered in response. "I think you know I'm not talking crap, Chris. Mankind has a way of relying on substitutes for happiness, blinded by their own foolish impulsions. Some people will adopt pet animals...some will take up home decor...some will smoke incessantly."
Chris glared. "And some people wear their sunglasses at night."
Wesker chuckled slightly, and removed his hand from Chris's chest. "Dear boy, I insist that no one could see this world clearer than I." He raised his hand and removed his glasses, making no effort to fold them. Instead, he took the other hand, and raised, Chris's chin so that he could look him straight in the eye. "How about you?"
Chris gazed in to Wesker's eyes; blue orbs, stunning in the complexity of their colour , hypnotic and familiar. Still, Chris wondered what went on behind those eyes, hard and unreadable. Suddenly, Chris wanted to be alone.
"I see perfectly fine." Chris murmured, and slowly lowered Wesker's hand. "I need another cigarette."
He fumbled back in to his pockets for his lighter, stopping when he heard the familiar drone of Wesker's laugh. "Chris, Chris. Sometimes, you are a complete enigma to me. Never mind, I too have things to do. I suppose we shall have to make a rain check on our little...arrangement."
"Sure thing, Wesker" Chris nodded, fighting the sudden urge to pull Wesker back to him.
Wesker looked at him strangely. "Call me Albert."
"Yeah, well, you say that tonight, tomorrow it'll be Wesker again."
"Hmmm." Wesker repositioned his glasses, the reflection of the moon returning to shadow his face. He turned on his heel, and walked casually away and out of sight down the frosty street.
Chris ignored the pangs in his chest and his stinging lips and lit himself another cigarette.
"Merry Christmas, Albert."