Disclaimer: I don't own Capcom or Resident Evil.
Thank you for the all flattering reviews on the previous chapter! I'm glad the factors are panning out just right where it should be, and that you guys are patiently walking this through with me.
Now getting all the tissues and teary-eyes out of our way, we are finally moving into the attraction phase between our two heroes. Well I won't say it will be easy because it ain't. Conversations will become harder to write and the need to keep check of the evolving feelings to their original characters (personas) of the character is even more important now than ever. Well, thanks to the great Mrs Wesker I mentioned before, she helps to keep me in check.
"And I feel so satisfied when I can see you smile
I, I want to confide in all that is true
So I'll keep on tryin', I'm through with lyin'"
— Poco, Keep on Tryin'
The question is, why did he buy this thing?
Taking a break in the midst of his report typing, Chris now stares at the little brown parcel on his table. The winter is harsh this year, or it may have always been like this in England much to the captain's ignorance. He is thankful that he managed to stop Piers' harraging before the snow had gotten worse, chances are letting the ace bunk in his office would result in him waking up with sores and aches all over. Well he does have his room somewhere on the upper floors but, where would his manners be to ask his subordinate to use his room as he pleases? No doubt Charlie Leader would come next harraging to coach him on a lesson on how to use his authority effectively.
Chris presses the bridge of his nose, sighing, then there is this thing.
Honestly now, how the spur came about is the lesser worry he has because right now this moment, his bigger problem would be how he intends to present it to him.
Ben has secretly planned a Christmas party, well considerably still a secret if you exclude the higher-ups from everyone else in the picture. A party animal's gotta do what a party animal's gotta do he says, which in plain Alpha understanding meant girls and more girls, booze and more booze. To avoid trouble however, Chris manages to limit the perimeters within the closer bunch of soldiers, the thought of Charlie Leader catching in on them terrifies him. It felt like a priest walking in on hormone-raging teenagers making out in the mass hall in the middle of the night and only god knows what will happen next.
So as you can see, the problem clear as day would be handing the gift. This tiny little parcel, moving from Chris' hands into his hands in the eyes of everybody as the only one entitled to a gift other than being the first person to actually receive one from him since Man learnt how to type, is phenomenal. It would be much easier if he had just chucked the present away and pretended it never existed but thinking about him, he couldn't bring himself to.
Oh please. Listen him say, thinking about him, Chris almost chokes on his black coffee. He shakes his head at the foreign idea, grabbing the parcel on the table and throws it into the first drawer before slamming it shut. An alarm goes off from his cell phone telling him it's already eleven, that he should probably hit the sack. So putting the paperwork aside, he closes the door behind before returning to his room. Benefits of being captain as far as his room got to, privacy at a time now is most needed.
All for a damn Christmas present he wanted to surprise him with.
Marco is just going through the names of the new recruits under his coaching when he sees Carl coming in the distance, hands with documents and filers. He didn't know Carl was put to take care of the rookies as well.
"Rookie training?" Marco stops before Carl, distracting him from his train of thoughts.
Carl looks up, in a haste to communicate, "yeah, didn't think they would put me to man combat training. Gonna have to oversee their training for the next three months or so."
"That wasn't surprising. Your HTH has always been best among all of us."
Carl laughs, "And that's being cliché. I'm sure everyone's equally good."
"Except capin, he'll whoop anyone's ass any day, anytime."
Then the image of a certain captain drifts to their mind, arms rippling with muscles screaming the daylights out of the new rookies sends a chill down their back. Marco looks suspiciously at Carl, who returns guilty of his thoughts sends both of them in a frenzy of wild laughter, backs bending and knees giving out. It reminded them of Charlie leader sending flocks of new recruits into the field just a couple of days ago burning them under the cold. That senior Nazi wannabe always has the worst kinds of training prepared in the midst of his yelling, his unforeseen mild octave screaming that always left the Alpha boys laughing. Except for Piers, which explains his great fond of love for the boy like the son he never had.
"Be thankful the captain's nothing like the Nazi," Carl graciously reminds, slotting the loose papers into the filers he holds.
"You bet. I wouldn't last a day like that. Maybe only Piers could," Marco cringes at thought of it.
"Or maybe Andy, but he's probably gonna like round out with bruises by the old captain with his temper."
Stark, the clash of their names stops the boys in their tracks, a shift in the mood weighs in the air. It has been two weeks since the incident but neither party has attempted to make any interaction with one another. Despite some persuasion has been made over at his ex-wife's place, Andy's resilience to the prep talk had been one of the worst encountered leaving Carl only to save his breath. Marco had given the warning then, but he was just too concerned with the situation to resign to it.
"Still the same old, huh?" Marco routes the question up like a daily topic.
"Looks the same to me."
"Tonight's the celebration. I'm kinda counting on Piers to give some leeway considering it's his day after all."
Carl sighs, "I'm kinda worried he doesn't even want him there."
Shirking the distress, Marco brings a hand hard onto Carl's back, chasing the negativity away in the startle, "C'mon, it's tradition. Every Alpha must be there. He's got no damn say in this, the capin won't let him."
Well that's a fact that they can at least pin their hopes onto.
They don't know what it is called but it is a commemorative birthday drink almost every soldier needs to have on their birthday. It works by filling half a pint of porter in a glass, followed by double shots of whiskey, gin, rum, port and brandy. While porter is a rarity in the States thus often replaced, they are fortunate the stout originates from the much easily accessible to London now. Some of the older soldiers said it came from a tradition in Texas, while some other claimed Tennessee having first light though nobody actually knew its history. It didn't matter much, so long it tasted good, no one really bothered with its roots.
Eyes watching, everyone's waiting, sits the beer cocktail in front of Andy, the announced birthday boy for the night. Fellow comrades have come over shaking hands and buddy hugs, and they didn't need to have a name to begin with. A military culture between men one would like to think, it is always better to make a friend than a foe at any circumstances.
When it comes to making friends, no one beats the captain at it. He apparently just bought one round on the house in celebration of Andy's birthday. His spirits are hyped as always, people are cheering and singing good old-fashioned birthday songs, the merriment is up and rising for the evening. After some casual greetings of hi-byes, Chris finally finds his way back to the table where the boys are waiting, a palm-sized Vatrushka topped with raisins and a candle on it prepared by the barmaid in his hand. Birthday cakes are way over their league now, but a simple pastry like this would perhaps suffice the tradition of it.
A birthday boy's got to have his birthday wish no matter how old he is.
"I think you've had enough birthday songs," Chris laughs as he slides into the seat next to Andy, placing the plate on the table before him. "You know the drill."
Andy glances all around, all smiling eager faces but one looking back at him, waiting for him to make the wish. Closing his eyes, he reads his wish aloud in his mind, hoping for nothing more than the safety of his friends and family, the boys of Alpha and their captain, with or without the grudge hanging. He doesn't yearn for anything more, he only wishes to treasure what is most important to him in his line of duty. The captain taught him that.
Blowing the candle out, the boys applaud like the end of a theatrical play, Ben tossing one arm over Andy's shoulder pulling him into a nasty tug of rough arm and fist. Marco laughs at the boys while Carl dips in for another swig of his beer, cornering his attention to Piers who sits beside him, lips tight looking at the mug on his table with nowhere else to divert his attention too. Apparently the captain has noticed the behavior as well, the combat specialist sees him watching the ace intently, eyes ever looking up from the mug latched to his mouth. The two has yet to make any eye contact as far as they have observed, though neither have they tried to start a fight or any sort. Maybe this night is just going to go without much of the hitch they are worried about.
Or maybe the captain has just decided this isn't how the night is going to go out.
With a swift kick, he jolts Piers out of his distraction with his foot as the ace stirs around, looking deadpan at his captain for the rude behavior he just displayed. The look on Chris' face is nothing short of seriousness, burrowing his brows before he rights his head pointing at Andy in a small tilt, expecting Piers to do something about it. Yes, do something about that wall they have built.
"Right, so Andy, Piers has something to say to you."
The captain's message instantly stops everyone in their tracks, whether if it is Andy eating his birthday pastry or Ben messing around with Marco, everyone just stopped. This obviously doesn't make it easier for Piers, for he is now horrifically stunned by his captain's action because he doesn't have a damn clue what he should be saying. Cocking a squinting eye at the captain is only making matters worse for himself, the officer is playing dumb with the beer he holds by dodging his vision sideways.
Way to get my back there, captain, Piers inwardly mocks.
"Oh?" Stopping his munching, Andy drops his head leftwards with a curve on his lips that clearly feigns interest in what the ace has to say, "the ace has some birthday messages for me? This I gotta hear."
Piers knows a scoff when he hears one, and certainly knows a quip if he needs one, "Well as a matter of fact, I do. Thanks to the captain for bringing it up."
Chris almost choked on that one.
"Well, shoot. I ain't got all day."
In a quick filter through all the nasty remarks Piers could throw back at the senior, he stops at one, beaten and brazen, in the faux articulation he narrated in his mind, "it is our honor to be here celebrating your birthday. Although this may be a simple gathering, we know it is one of the most treasured moments where we get to be more than a soldier on the field but also a comrade and a friend who would extend his hand whenever you need it. Therefore tonight, we bring a toast to the many men of valor and courage, whom have gone and returned like yourself and everyone here, that we be blessed with the fortune to be able to sit together to celebrate something as simple as a song to a cake and a drink to a day."
Apparently, that hoax of a congratulatory message astounded everybody, including the captain himself. Earning that look of amazement from Andy is most unexpectedly pleasant, not that Piers is going to let it stay the way it is.
Raising his mug, "Here's to a toast, to Alpha and his great men, especially to Andy Walker, a man without fear and hesitation to fight for what he believes in. Happy birthday to you."
That caught Andy way off guard. The humbleness in his speech, the recognition of the men of Alpha and the roots they believe in, Andy wonders what miracle pills he has taken to be enlightened by this foresight. Putting that aside for now, all eyes seemed to be plastering on him waiting for his grand speech in return, likely expecting him to make an equivalent gratitude of thanks to dissipate the stubborn tension straying around. Enough with the staring guys, he knows what he has to do.
Clearing his throat, Andy takes a deep breath before he atones, "well… I'm just glad you finally see what we stand for. So err… yeah, thanks for that."
The captain must be smiling, Carl would like to think so, even if his face isn't showing or his lips aren't moving. Deep down he knew the captain must have said something to Piers, which meant his decision to tell him must have done something good. Carl sighs in relief, finally things are going back on track for Alpha he believes. Marco then slightly nudges against his arm, stealing a fraction of his attention when he sees the other Alphan smiling discreetly, tall sign of the relief everyone must have experienced likewise.
And Chris wouldn't give a thing to take back the hurt he may have inflicted on Piers on shore if it could make things better for the ace like now.
"Well well, this calls for a real celebra—"
"Although I may add, I did kinda save you back there so, yeah. Just saying." Cutting Chris off his line much to everyone's surprise is Piers, and his little act of rebuttal appears to be warranting another lashback from Andy who quickly changes the aptitude of being shocked to an angry snort in return.
"What?" Andy wears a puzzled look of annoyance, irritation lacing his voice, "you'd actually think you saved the day or somethin'?"
"I don't think I said I'd saved the day, I only said I saved you then." Suppressing a grin couldn't be as difficult as it can be right now. Piers thought he might be enjoying this.
"Why you—" Holding Andy back is Ben, the other known party on the frontline with Andy then who knows what Piers is talking about. It might have true that without the ace's backup, they wouldn't have been able to hold the line up as smoothly as they think they would have. But he knows he is not about to incur Andy's wrath at this point in time, no need to join forces with the ace.
"Cut it out guys," Breaking a sweat, Chris interrupts their little bickering for a timeout, though a little curious behind Piers' intention, "there may not be a battle to attend to tomorrow, but that doesn't mean I need the fighting now."
Shrugging Ben off his back, Andy goes back sulking to his celebratory food whereas Piers… well Chris couldn't guess what's plotting beneath that nonchalant face of his.
"Watch it ace," Andy snarls for the last time, although he couldn't help being under a discerning impression thinking that perhaps that was the ace's way of connecting with him. Still, it doesn't change the fact that his smugly attitude pisses him off till no end.
"Always," and now the Alphans wished they could put a muzzle on the ace.
Well since they didn't hold the hose, the boys could only drag the fully wasted birthday boy back to the bunk the moment they stepped foot back in camp. It took three men to get him into the vehicle so likewise, it would take the same three men to carry him back. Watching them go, Piers grins to himself as he steps out of the Humvee, deciding that he should wait for the captain to head back together as well.
"What was that for earlier?"
The captain's concern came a little unexpected to Piers. He did really not have an answer for the leader regarding his spur in the moment other than…
"Being yourself, finally?" Undeniably, Chris had secretly hoped that the little attitude swap is the start of a brand new Piers Nivans in Alpha.
Piers honestly wonders how the captain figured him out that easily. But even so, it is not necessary that he admit to it, if he is as observant as he thinks he is, then not a lot needs to be said at all. He did tell him not to hide anymore… and for some reason, Piers manages to convince himself to place his faith in the captain to try it. Groundless faith yet again, he was still nonetheless the one who led him to where he was now, here.
Escaping from the cold, Chris chases after the silhouette of Piers in the distance once he stows the vehicle away, all in the meantime still thinking about the reports laying on his desk due in a couple of days' time. Has he finished the Burco report in his drawer? Wait, drawer. Approaching Piers, he remembers the little brown package in it, the gift that he doesn't know how he is going to present. Maybe he should just get the ace up to his office now to hand it to him, but that would mean a detour from the bunk dorms to his building that was further away. And snow is not his best friend, which Chris is certain of.
Then watching Piers turn around waiting for him, in the mild snow falling over him, Chris' heart stopped. He didn't know how, he didn't know why, but seeing Piers standing there just waiting for him, seeing him in the cold looking back at him, something stopped his tracks. The solo figure who has always stood alone, the one he is compelled—or resolved to change. Chris wanted something, not just anything, to change. Would Piers have hoped for the same he wonders, even though he isn't sure what he wants to change for now. Thoughts became incoherent, his mind vacant and then suddenly, all that matters now is the person right before him. The person whom he mindlessly bought a gift for, the person he wanted to surprise, the person he wanted to redeem himself for shedding his tears who also happens to be his… soldier.
The vicious word snaps him awake, realizing he has stopped his footwork in the increasing cold while the ace is already yards apart.
"You coming, captain?" Piers calls from the shelter he stands beneath, dusting the snow off his jacket while the leader jogs towards him. Something feels amiss in the air, but he knows he is not about to ask something too personal.
While Chris knows, Piers must have sensed something off on him. Guy's pretty observant the last he remembered. So baiting, he plans to retreat quickly, "Well, you should head back up. I'll see you for morning training tomorrow then."
In spite trying to ignore the fact that he may have been hoping to continue the conversation prior, Piers nods hesitantly, "Yes, sir. Have an early night."
"You too." Smiling, Chris returns into the snow as he briskly moves off to his building, mind still contemplating the musing thoughts from before. A quick idea hits him. Just before he disappears from the ace's sight, he turns around and yells back, "Hey Piers!"
Popping his head out from the entrance before he steps out, Piers watches the snow-covered captain holding his left hand to his face, pressing it next to his mouth as he listens to the words coming at him, "Try harder!"
All Chris sees after that is the ace walking back into the building immediately without a single word spoken. Making his way back to his room, he laughs to himself, unusual thoughts crawling up his mind. Despite not seeing it, he knows Piers must have grimaced it. That must have been why he went back in without a word, he probably couldn't suppress a scowl at the encouragement he has given him and that tickled a funny bone inside the captain. But one thing's for sure now, well at least Chris is definitely certain now.
The gift would have suited him perfectly in the snow earlier.
It would be too one-sided if I had only focused on Piers now, wouldn't it be?
