A/N: So, this is little story is just so cute. It's fun. And kinda fluffy. It will eventually run on toward other stuff. This is just love story building so far. Thanks for the notes and the reviews and the pms regarding this little story. I didn't expect it to gather much traction honestly. So, I'm glad it's well liked.

I love nothing more then a nice love triangle. As we see here, no one is too far in yet and so things are just fun and cute. Two boys battling for a girl's affection.

Slainte.

-TLF

.


DISCLAIMER: RESIDENT EVIL IS SOLELY OWNED BY CAPCOM. ALL CHARACTERS USED HERE DO NOT RESEMBLE ANYONE LIVING, DEAD, OR UNDEAD. *cough*


Part One: The Ghosts That Haunt...


Chapter Three: In Which We Find A Boy who's a rookie – A Boy who's a menace – And a Girl with a choice to make


Leon Kennedy dropped his keys twice trying to get out the door.

He was so late. LATE. Just terribly late. But it wasn't his fault. It wasn't.

From the moment he'd rolled into the RPD that morning, Chris Redfield had set about making his life fucking miserable. The hazing had started in full force. That's what happened when you were hanging with Jill Valentine – you got an angry, jealous, bad haircut wearing monkey fucking up your world.

The first part was pulling shit detail as a traffic cop downtown during the parade. Eight hours of directing cars and excited patrons to good parking spots and local flair. He had to wear little white gloves and a stupid hat. He had a whistle, like a crossing guard, and a sign.

Redfield out ranked him, big time, so when he'd stuck his head into the bullpen and bellowed, "YO! Kennedy! You're just the guy we were looking for. Get to use all your fancy training today, kid. BIG job for you."

Asshole.

Big job indeed.

He'd gotten back from that shit detail to find out he was on the chore wheel –twice- for bathroom maintenance. So, he'd spent the second half of his afternoon scrubbing shitters and urinals. This put him into the six o'clock hour already behind. He had to fill out and file eighteen reports before he could even get off duty.

He was still hammering away at the typewriter when Redfield and the rest of the S.T.A.R.S. crew came by his desk. Chris stopped and glanced down at him, "Long day, rookie?"

"Nope. It was great. Learned a lot."

"…sir."

Leon stopped typing and glanced up at him. "What?"

"It's sir. I'm your superior. So, it's…learned a lot, sir."

Mother fucker.

Leon licked his teeth. He wanted to say about eighteen different things. Did he? No. He glanced over at Jill where she was laughing by the fountain with a little bit of a thing with short hair. And he kept his peace.

Instead?

"Of course, sir. I apologize. Won't happen again. Anything else I can help you out with before you head out?"

Chris snorted a little and patted his shoulder, hard. Thump, thump, thump. "Nah, you enjoy your night rookie. Seriously. Big day tomorrow. I need somebody to canvas the neighborhood for witnesses regarding that homicide on Baker. Should be a total shit show. That street is nothing but hookers and junkies. Good luck finding a reliable witness statement."

It was official: Chris Redfield was the biggest douchebag that ever lived.

EVER.

"Sounds like a real opportunity to expand my interrogation techniques, sir. I'm happy to help."

Chris had to admit, the kid was unflappable. They eyed each other narrowly. Kennedy kept on smiling but those eyes? All kinds of boiling rage.

Chris' were twinkling happily. "Hmm. Good attitude, kid. I like the enthusiasm. Be here at six sharp ok? I have a mountain of old reports that need typed up. I see you're a whiz there on that beast of a machine. GOOD. It'll make my life easier. Take it easy, rookie."

Chris hailed Jill as he walked off, "Hey, Valentine! You ready? I got a game of darts with your name ALL over it!"

Jill grinned a little and shook her head, "Can't. I'm on until eight thirty remember? Working the Gussman bombing."

"So what? Blow it off. It'll be there in the morning."

Oy, she thought, Redfield…lazy.

"No, you lazy bastard. Some of us like to do our work."

"Pfft. It's why we have rookies!" He grinned and shot a finger gun at Kennedy. "Isn't that right kid?"

Jill lifted both brows. She watched Chris and Forrest leave laughing with Joseph and Kevin Dooley. She shifted her gaze back to Leon.

He was typing furiously now at his desk.

Moving to join him, Jill perched on the edge of his desk. He didn't quite look at her which was interesting. "Do I want to ask?"

"Just hazing the new guy, clearly."

His tone was something. Jill lifted a brow at him. "Up here, Kennedy. Not down there."

His eyes shifted and lifted to her face. And there it was. The arrow of it. It zipped and thrummed where it stuck in his breast for her. Ok. It was worth it to let that Neanderthal haze him. Worth every shitty minute.

He said, quietly, "I've missed you, Jill. A lot."

Touched, she tucked a piece of his shaggy hair behind his ear. "Yeah. Me too. You wanna get out of here?"

He grinned a little and sighed. "I'd looove to. But this shit pile of reports would just be waiting here for me in the morning. You're on for a little longer?"

"I am. About an hour."

"Ok. Great. So, I'll finish up here and swing by your place to grab you after I'm done?"

"Deal." Jill watched him shift his attention back to the reports. She saw his mountain was four times as big as the others. Curious, she lifted the top one. She scanned it and narrowed her eyes. She shifted to the second, scanned it…and pursed her lips.

Redfield.

Little jerk.

Jill shook her head a little. "I'm gonna go run and change and finish my own shit pile of paperwork. Nine?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

With a wink, Jill pushed off the desk and moved toward the locker room. He watched her, impressed with how she moved. There was some kind of lithe grace to her that said training. Her short little bob of dark hair complimented the pretty big blue eyes. The eyes were the face with her, clearly. They were ringed in thick lashes and big enough to drown in. Coupled with that pouty little mouth and dip in her chin? Gorgeous.

He was halfway through the stack when she came back from her office to head out.

Her hand tapped playfully over the back of his uniform as she passed by his desk. "You got forty five minutes, rookie. Don't be late."

Laughing a little, Leon looked up to crack a joke. Since he was always late for everything. He was late on his first day of work. Late for his interview. Late for his funeral, most likely.

He flicked his eyes to her and back to his typewriter.

And stopped.

He stopped and looked back at her.

Some little blue tube top atop the tiniest black skirt ever created and knee high black boots. A little white sweater was looped around her waist. With the exception of her shoulder holster, the rest of her was…bare.

It was golden skin and freckles. It was lithe muscle and long legs. It was murder.

Probably murder.

Leon found out he couldn't even speak. Nothing. Zilch. Mute.

She winked at him from one of those big blue eyes ringed in sooty eyeliner and grabbed her little white and red umbrella from the station by the door. She turned a little, "Forget picking me up, ok? Meet me at J's?"

He nodded, apparently still unable to form a cohesive sentence.

Jill hurried out into the rain and the big doors slid closed behind her.

Leon leaned back in his rolling chair. He blew out a heavy breath. He rolled his neck and adjusted himself where he sat. Ok. So that's where that was headed.

It shouldn't surprise him.

He'd gotten his first real wet dream thinking of her. Why not continue to throw a bone anytime she was around? Lord. This was a dangerous game to play with her. They'd been so close in that group home. Peas in a pod. It was risky to play into a love affair with her especially with Redfield hanging around like a dragon at the gates.

If he kept pursuing her, Redfield was going to make his life hell. Not that it mattered. Guys had been dogging him for as long as he'd been breathing. First because of his size, then because of his weight, and after? Jealousy. Because he'd been the best at everything.

He'd never backed down to a gorilla faced fucker before and it wasn't going to start now. Aloud, Leon avowed, "Bring it, you son of a bitch. Let's see who caves first."

He went to the locker room to change into some street clothes.

Because he was aware of his pseudo-date that night, Leon Kennedy had packed himself no less than three different options for what to wear. Casual: A navy t-shirt and jeans with Adidas. Casual- Dressy: A baby blue men's dress shirt, rolled up on the forearms, left unbuttoned over a white undershirt, and paired with khakis and leather sandals. Dressy-Hip: The same men's dress shirt, still rolled up on the forearms, paired with a fantastic silk tie and a dove gray vest. He'd throw it on with the jeans and a pair of black boots.

He stood too long considering. Jill didn't care.

Who was he kidding?

Redfield probably had four shirts in various colors and a pair of camouflage shorts. He doubted he stood around debating different styles before a date. He SINCERELY doubted it. What had Jill said? Lazy.

Redfield was so lazy.

Maybe he didn't even bother to shower.

"Alright," Leon pep talked himself as he changed, "So, we go OPPOSITE, Redfield. Compare and contrast right?"

He slipped on the dressy-hip and felt good about it.

But now he was late. So, he was really pissed after dropping his keys twice. He ran out into the rain and leaped in his Jeep. The engine kicked over on the black beauty and sent him careening down Main Street.

His tape deck was blaring Bon Jovi at the top of its lungs.

He left it, rocking out while he shifted gears and headed for the bar.

He tossed his hair a little to get it out of his face and caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror.

The old man would hate his hair. He knew that. It was why the haircut had first come to be, actually. Because the drunk ass old fool would have hated it. If he wasn't so washed up now, that being crippled wasn't even the worst part about him.

He was a joke. He'd been hit in the street that day. It had left him crippled. His legs didn't work. It was wheelchair bound for the old man after that. Wheelchairs and anger. The drinking got worse. He didn't bother to come get Leon from the home.

So when he'd turned eighteen, Leon had never looked back.

But he knew the old man was alive. He'd heard he was living out his days in some home somewhere for the infirm. Too lazy, too stupid, too weak to get on with his life without bitching and looking for a crutch.

Dumb old man.

But the "girl" hair Leon enjoyed would make him angry wherever he was. "You faggot! You dress like a fucking girl! You a girl!? Your mama died birthing some queer?"

The old man as progressive as a right wing redneck could be. He practically had an elephant from the Republican Party crammed up his prejudiced ass. Sometimes, Leon wished he was gay just to spite that old bastard.

Leon swung the Jeep to a spot outside on the street by the bar.

He leaped off into the rain and headed for the door.

Inside, Chris was whooping. "See this, Valentine? DEFEATED."

Jill shrugged, unconcerned and sipped her beer. She glanced at her watch and out into the rain. He was late. Was he coming? Chris was clearly being a douche to him. Maybe he was tired of dealing with him.

Offhandedly, Jill mused, "You wanna tell me why you keep picking on Kennedy?"

Chris laughed a little and helped himself to her beer. Too lazy to order his own, clearly. "He's a rookie, Val. That's it. Don't get your panties in a bunch because he's your buddy."

"Hmm. Doesn't have anything to do with being jealous right? That would be stupid. You're not the jealous type, right Redfield?"

He held her narrowed gaze. They kept on staring for a long moment.

And he finally laughed and turned back to play darts with Forrest.

Little jerk.

Jill turned on her stool as the door opened.

He stepped in shaking his wet hair and there was that zip in her belly. It felt like a flutter of butterfly wings. It made her grin. As he crossed the bar, Jill thought there probably wasn't anything cuter in it than him. Probably. Including Phil the bar owners Cocker spaniel Lump that lived behind the bar.

Swiping water off his face and shaking his arms to send droplets of it flying, he eased up to the bar with her. It was packed, standing room was limited. They pressed close to hear each other over the music and the conversation that swirled around them.

She grinned, "You're late."

"I'm always late. Hadn't you heard?" Leon leaned on the bar and ordered a scotch. "Jill?"

"Yep?"

He put his lips beside her ear, "This outfit you're barely wearing? It's asking for me to grope you."

Delighted, Jill turned her face toward him with a little laugh. Their cheeks brushed. Their noses brushed. She said, quietly, "….I know."

And had him grinning at her.

"Clever girl."

"I have my moments." She looked down at him and back at his face. "You look like a GQ cover model."

"Yeah? I was going for dressy hip."

Her hand not holding her beer lifted. It slid over his tie and rubbed the silky material between her fingers. His hand not holding his scotch settled on the edge of the bar beyond her hip. He was leaning over her.

Forrest laughed a little beside the dartboard, "That dude is leaning."

Chris turned a little. They both stared for a moment. And Chris laughed, sharply. "Goddamn, rookie. That's leaning."

"Yup. He's leaning on Valentine. What's the game plan?" Forrest pursed his lips, tapping them with his dart.

"Operation Raccoon City, dude. Destroy and conquer."

"Copy that."

"Game on."

"Game, fucking, on."

They both laughed and started planning exactly how to get revenge on the floppy haired rookie cop currently leaning all over Jill Valentine.

Jill kept stroking that silky tie in her fingers, "This is nice. Your bottom of the barrel paycheck afford you shit like this?"

Leon rubbed their noses together and had her toes tingling in her boots. "Nope. That's overtime pay, sweetheart. I can't be badly dressed out in public with the RPD royalty, can I? I'll never live it down."

Their mouths brushed as they talked. It was probably the best feeling she'd ever had. Her lips tingled like her toes. Her mouth turned up into a wicked little grin. "Officer Kennedy?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"You wanna go back to my place and have some overtime?"

He threw back the rest of the scotch. She fire bombed her beer. And his voice broke, just a little when he answered, which…made her NUTS for him. "…you're my superior, ma'am, I'm pretty sure I'm here for whatever you need."

"Mmm. There could be groping involved, Officer. Possibly tongue kissing. It might be outside your job parameters."

She watched his adam's apple bob. She rolled her lips around. They both had dilated eyes.

It was pretty awesome.

He murmured, "Serve and protect, ma'am. I'm here to serve."

Her face was so hot. The bar? The people? The crowd of bodies and noise? The smoke?

No…the rookie.

"Leon?"

"Mmm?"

"You should show me your car."

"Yep. Yeah. Ok. Sure. I should do that. Just…yep." He slapped some money on the bar and grabbed her hand. She was laughing as he jerked her off the stool. She was still laughing as he practically carried her one armed out of the bar.

Joseph arched his brows. "The rookie stole your girl."

Chris hit the bullseye again, rolling his eyes. "It's temporary. That girl is all flash and sizzle. He'll burn out for her quick enough."

"You planning to keep her by what? Being her steady old rock?"

"Why not? Fire fades out, my friend. Rocks? They just keep on rolling."

"….that's not entirely unintelligent, Redfield. Consider me impressed. You Confucius?"

"I am. Inside, Speyer. I am. Indeed." And he was also jealous. Which pissed him off to no end.

Outside, in the soft rain, Leon bumbled his keys twice. Jill was laughing. Her hands were under his vest and stroking. His face was on fire.

He laughed, a little hoarse, "So this is my Jeep."

"It's nice. Leather seats?"

"Hah. Yep. Leather."

"Soft top?"

"You bet. For…uh…"Her hands tugged at his shirt and were playing at his belly. "Uh…nice days. Good days. Warm? Something."

A little light headed, Jill nipped his chin while he crammed the key in the door.

Her fingers skimmed his right hip inside his jeans and he grunted and jerked open the door. "Just…get in there. In. The Jeep."

"In?"

"IN. Hurry. Yes. Jeep."

One word answers. Oh lord. Jill slid her hands into the back of his pants and grabbed his ass. What followed was a lot of laughing and rustling clothes. Someone grunted. Someone laughed. And Jill spilled back into the Jeep. Her legs poked out until he spun her around while she laughed and slammed the door.

He skipped, twice, and all but ran to the driver's seat.

The door of the bar opened and along came Chris Redfield to shit on his parade.

"Rookie!"

Leon was half hopped in his seat. He levered himself up to look over the roof of the Jeep. "Yeah? Sup?"

"Sup? Sup is a robbery homicide on Sanderson. Sup is I want you to handle the call."

Was he fucking kidding?

"I'm off duty."

Chris lifted his brows. "Are you? I'm pretty sure you're on duty for another…" He checked his watch, "Eighteen minutes."

Mother…fucker.

Leon stared at him. The window of the Jeep rolled down.

Pink cheeked, Jill laughed a little. "Hey Redfield. What's happening?"

"Sorry, Valentine. I need your boyfriend here to do his job. They need a uniform over on Sanderson at the robbery homicide."

Jill gave him a long look. He held it, blandly. She pursed her lips. "Fine. I will go with him."

Leon swung into the driver's seat, fuming. Jill touched his arm, just once. "A minute? Ok?"

"Sure."

She slid out of the seat and circled her finger at Chris. He stuck his hands in his back pockets and followed her over to the side of the bar…where she proceeded to shove him into the wall. Hard.

He grunted, cursing a little. "Seriously?"

He said nothing.

She smacked his chest – twice. "Seriously!?"

"What?" It sounded a little angry.

Good. She was pissed.

"You slit stopping me, Redfield? Seriously? All the times I've been your wingman here and you're slit stopping me?"

He couldn't stop the laugh. "What the hell is slit stopping?"

"It's the female version of cock blocking, you little asshole. You fucking with my getting a piece of ass?"

"No." She went to smack him again. He held up a hand to stop her. "NO! I'm not. They need a uniform, Valentine. He's it. He's still on duty! It's not my fault!"

Jill put her finger in his face, glaring. "Chris Redfield, I swear to god. If you keep up this petty shit, I'm going to tank every date you have between now and forever. I will fart in a mason jar and put it in your bedroom like an air freshener. I will leave tampons in the trash unwrapped. I will embarrass you so badly at work that you can't even show your face. Don't slit stop me, don't you dare."

"I'm not." She glared at him. He shifted uncomfortably. She kept on throwing daggers from those big blue eyes. And he kinda shouted it, "I'M NOT!"

"Get off his back, Redfield. I mean it."

"You protecting your fat friend again, Valentine? From the big bad bully?"

Jill reached forward, grabbed a handful of pec, and twisted. Chris squeaked and smacked at her hands. "OK! OK! Christmas cookies made from shit! FINE! Lay off with the titty twister!"

"Lay off with the jealousy. You're being stupid. You want me for yourself?"

He met her burning glare. He blinked. She waited.

Finally, he muttered, "….no."

"There. See. So, knock it the fuck off. You just don't want me hanging with other dudes. And if the answer is really yes?"

He was rubbing his sore chest. She arched both brows. "It doesn't matter. You let that ship sail, Redfield. You did that. Don't come sniffing around my panties now that you see another dog in your yard. And you leave him alone. He's my friend. SO ARE YOU. Unless you keep being stupid. Then you're my enemy. And I destroy my enemies."

"That sounds like a threat."

"It is. Don't be stupid. Go back inside, find a nice chic, throw some bone down to her and go home. Leave it alone."

Jill passed by him. Chris called after her, "You sayin you aren't interested in my bone?"

Jill rolled her eyes. "Right now? No. Your bone is acting about twelve years old."

"The one in that Jeep with you is about the same age. Woulda thought you'd like some prime young cock."

"Grow up, Chris." The first time she'd ever said his name. Ouch. It felt like his mom admonishing him. "Seriously. You are the dumbest man alive about chics. Seriously."

Jill leveraged herself up into the Jeep. She closed the door and it pulled away from the curb.

Chris muttered under his breath as he went back into the smoky bar. Idiot. What the fuck was that?

Forrest was watching him, grinning.

"What?"

"You are so dumb."

Barry called out, from the pool table, "RIGHT!? DUMB!"

Chris rolled his eyes. He picked up his darts and his beer. "Blow me, you turds. And shut the fuck up. Play darts or fuck off."

The laughter around him was well deserved, admittedly. It was a fairly jealous display. He was kinda surprised at himself. He wasn't the type for it. But Jill was his buddy. And she was throwing herself at some formerly fat foster kid with a Shaggy from Scooby Doo haircut and overblown fashion sense. Stupid.

He'd just have to be more tactful at splitting that up is all. The punch in the face Redfield method was failing here. So, maybe it was time to try a little fat foster kid method.

He considered it.

Yep. He was going to have to SEDUCE Jill Valentine.

Now he just needed to figure out how in the HELL he was supposed to do that.

…..

The Jeep was parked under the heavy willow tree near the park. The branches tickled the soft roof with dripping fingers of green. The rain cocooned around it with a steady patter of sound.

It was almost midnight. The crime scene had been a mess. Jill had helped the investigating officer's while Leon had done his damn duty and stood guard. The night had worn on with tents to cover evidence and interviewing witnesses.

It seemed pretty straightforward: drug deal gone wrong. A dealer dead in the street when he'd tried to scalp a client. A couple extra bucks had gotten him a few quick sticks from a shiv right into the side of his neck.

He'd bled out all over the pavement.

They'd finally left the crime scene just before midnight.

Leon asked, quietly, "You wanna go home?"

"No. No, I don't. You?"

"No. Where?"

"Park."

And here they were.

In the quiet interior of the Jeep, Leon filled the backdrop of soft rain with the sound of his voice. "He's into you, Jill. Big time. You guys have something happening there. You want me out of the way? I came here to see you again. It doesn't have to be more than that."

Jill stared out the rainy windshield for a moment. This was the kid who'd let her fight beside him all those years ago. He was the guy who let her drive his flashy Jeep from the crime scene without even blinking. And he was willing to get out of the way to let her be happy.

She didn't know exactly how she felt about Chris. But she knew how she felt about him.

She said nothing. She turned and hiked up her mini skirt. She shifted around the steering wheel and the gear shift in the dark and straddled him.

Her hands petted, they peeled back layers, and her mouth settled on his with a singular purpose. His slid up the outside of her thighs and curled up her back.

It was heavy panting and wet suckling. The spill of her skin in the moonlight. The feel of his mouth, his hair, his breath. It was a blending of sounds and skin. Nobody groped, not really, it was more and less and everything.

Touching, god yes, and kissing. Lots of heavy petting. The column of her throat, the spill of fingers against the smooth skin of his back, the shirt and vest went smooth under her stroking palms. Her shoulder holster was dangling around her belt. Her hands on his face. His on her naked spine under her top.

It was better then she'd thought. Better. Because under the rush of want for him was the slow thrill of the friend who'd been the first in her life to ever really look at her. The first boy she'd ever kissed - the same one she kissed now.

They separated, panting. Two sets of blue eyes in the silver spill of moonlight.

And Jill whispered, quietly, "You're not in the way. You wanna be in the way?"

She dropped her mouth to kiss him. It was soft and needy. It was trembling.

He breathed, "Yeah. I wanna be in the way."

Jill stroked his face, fingers and mouth. His hands roamed her thighs, her back, her neck and shoulders. They spilled together finally in a whole body press.

And because they both wanted to spill naked and desperate into the other, they clung instead, breathing slow and heavy.

He dropped her off like a gentlemen and Jill eased into the apartment. The witching hour was long and the dark glistened almost wetly along the floor and the walls of the kitchen as she crossed through toward her room. She was setting her purse down and easing off her boots when Chris spoke and scared the shit out of her, "Jill?"

She turned, unhooking her shoulder holster from her belt, "What?"

And he could tell she was still irritated at him. He just wasn't sure how to get the point across here without getting into the irritation. So, he did what he'd been doing since he met her and started waiting at the top of that wall for her to climb it; he pushed her a little in the right direction.

Jill laid her gun on the dresser in her room. She eyed him in the moonlight. He was in his sleeping pants. His hair looked mussed by harried fingers. The silvery shadows on his chest highlighted the nice show of muscles and just a touch of the right amount of chest hair.

She queried, "What is it, Redfield? I had a long night. Thanks to you I'm also hard up and pissed off. So just spill your beans and beat it, would ya? I'd like to get to bed sometime before dawn here."

He had to consider what the former fat friend would do here. He'd been playing this all wrong so far. What was the right move?

Jill shifted toward her closet, padding over the carpet on bare feet.

And Chris knew what the answer was here.

He stepped into the room.

Jill took her uniform out of the closet and turned to lay it on the dresser.

And there he was. Just RIGHT THERE. She bumped into him. "Dude, what the f-"

"I lied."

"What?"

"The answer? It was yes."

"The an-"

She lost the uniform as he took her face. It hit the floor, her back bumped into the wall, and he settled his mouth to hers without a seconds hesitation.

Her hands came up, locked over his biceps, and her mouth opened. It was more surprise, more instinct, then anything else. But the second she let it, his tongue took over the charge, and Chris Redfield kissed her like he pushed her up that wall – no hesitation, no chance for retreat; he just held on.

Jill made a small sound of surprise. He didn't grope. He didn't force. He just gave it everything he had. That was the thing about Redfield – lazy, yep, and then bowling you over while you weren't even looking.

Her gasping filled the space between as he finally gave her mouth back to her and stepped back.

"The rookie your boyfriend, Jill?"

Jill made another small sound.

"Yeah. Didn't think so. You decide he's the only one you want, I'll get out of the way. Until then? I'm in. I'm in the way. So, you have a choice to make. Take your time," Chris cupped her face and turned it back to his. Testing them both, he dropped his mouth to hers again, "I'm not going anywhere."

Her fingers curled over his pecs and gripped. Her mouth? It opened for him.

Yeah, he thought, she had a choice to make here.

But he made it a little harder for her by pluming the wet heat of that waiting mouth again until they were both breathless. As he let go, her realized her leg had lifted and slid over one of his and the arch of her foot was curved against his calve. He'd snuggled in against her while they'd touched. He brushed there now and brought her face flush with the heat of it.

"Yeah. Not going anywhere. Slow right? That's my thing. But he can't have you without a fight, Jill. That's just how it is has to be. Maybe he's all over you. But so am I. So, I'm not going anywhere."

Chris let her go and stepped back. Jill sorta stumbled and grabbed on to her desk to keep from falling. Aroused, amused at them both, Chris intoned, "Get some sleep, Val. You gotta busy day ahead of you. Lot's of important things to do."

Jill made that sound again, bringing a laugh from him.

"Yeah. Sounds about right. I'm gonna get jump back in my bed for a few more hours. Unless," He lifted both brows, "You want me to just jump in yours instead?"

Oh, her face. All flushed skin. She glanced at the bed, at him, at the bed, at him and cleared her throat twice before she could answer. "Uh…I think…I just…um….we should slow down a sec here…just…oh lord…"

She fanned her face.

"So, is that a yes or a no?"

Jill laughed a little, "You're kind of a bastard, Redfield. Just sayin."

"Still not an answer."

She knew it wasn't an answer. They both knew it.

It made him grin.

"Right. Good night, Jill. Sleep tight."

He closed the door quietly as he left.

Jill fell to her face on her mattress, made a sound of distressed amusement, and laughed into the comforter.

Of course. OF COURSE. She went from no men, to two men in forty eight hours. Two of them, neither with the intention of getting out of the way of the other one. Two of them with their hooks in her in various ways.

She was trapped between them. She was screwed.

But she WASN'T screwed. By either of them.

The eternal struggle.

She was stuck.

She was a Jill sandwich.