Hey guys! Here's another update, for ya! Just so you know, it's super long, so I hope no one objects to that. I worked really hard on it. Prepare for feels ;D Also, please excuse any errors. I've been writing this thing nonstop for days, so have a little mercy on me ;D Enjoy!
Italics are for thoughts/flashbacks
Both Sides of the Coin
Claire had been arms deep in dishes, when Chris walked through the door, exhausted, spotted with blue paint, and bruises running along his forehead and bare arms. He hadn't spoken to her in a couple days, and although he didn't want to ruin the evening with discussing Him, he knew he would have to. Wesker had backed off considerably once his and Claire's relationship had been thrown out in the open, albeit in the most arrogant way, Chris thought; and even though he didn't approve of his captain dating his younger sister, there wasn't much he could do without her resenting him. And Chris, by any means necessary, would avoid that at all costs.
When he walked into the kitchen to greet his sister with a small grin on his face, she immediately jumped at the sight of him. She rinsed her hands of the soapy suds and dried them with a dish towel.
"Chris?! What the hell happened to you?!" Claire grabbed his arm and examined it from elbow to shoulder, checking the extent of the damage. She brought a hand to his forehead, and Chris flinched at the touch, shaking free from his sister.
"That hurts," Chris said. "Sorry, but they're still a bit tender. We had a rough training session today."
"No kidding, meatwad," Claire agreed. "What the heck did you guys do, beat the crap out of each other?" She looked down at his shirt. "Is that paint?"
"It was a stealth exercise, Claire. Wesker thought it would be a good idea to form teams and play a long ass round of capture the flag with paintball guns." Chris shrugged and pulled a cold beer from the fridge, twisting off the cap and taking a long drink. "That fucker put up a fight, that's for sure."
"Who, Wesker?" She received a nod from Chris. "Doesn't he always?"
"Yeah…but he didn't want to give up the flag when he was supposed to. So he and I danced a round or two and—" He gestured to his forehead, taking another swig of beer before sitting at the table. "But what else is new?"
Claire joined her brother at the table, reaching for her forgotten can of cola, and took a drink, trying to calm her nerves. Her fingers danced against the can, deciding how she'd start off their conversation. "Chris…about Wesker…"
Chris sighed, the start of the topic hitting against his chest before he finished off his first beer. "I already know, Claire," he said, as though waving the matter away. "Before I confronted Wesker about it, I started piecing it all together—slowly, I'll admit—but I guess I wasn't as surprised when the truth came out. Don't get me wrong, I was pissed at first, but that died down once I got my head screwed back on. Hell, even Barry was more at ease than me, and you know how protective of you he is."
Claire's eyes widened, and her fingers fell away from the can. "Barry knows?!"
"Take it easy," Chris said gently. "It's just Barry. It's all hush-hush between us, OK? I promise." He took the beer cap and bent it in half, placing it inside the bottle with a soft clank, before retrieving another beer from the fridge.
"Did you use protection?" Chris continued in the awkward silence, taking a drink and adding, "That's why you didn't come home the other night, right?"
Claire nearly spit out the cola in her mouth. "What?!"
"C'mon, Claire…" Chris shook his head, annoyance setting into his tired eyes. "You don't stay over the person your dating's house to tell ghost stories."
"What are you, a detective? Who said we had sex?"
"Don't go there, Claire. It's Wesker; you know how he is, especially when it comes to women. He can turn the charm switch on and off when he needs to. Seriously, who are you trying to bullshit?"
Claire crossed her arms in defense. "So, it's an issue for me to sleep with one man, but its OK for you to go and bang every vagina that winks in your face?"
A grimace formed on his face at the thought of Claire sleeping with Wesker. "I'm older than you are," Chris reminded, and sat forward, elbows on the table, counting on one hand. "I'm responsible, I use protection," he emphasized, "and I can provide for a child, if I were to ever become a father—"
"I don't wanna talk about this anymore," Claire said, rising from her seat.
"I don't wanna talk about you boning my captain either, Claire, but you have to think realistically. If you were to get pregnant by him, would you be able to provide for the kid? Do you even know if Wesker would stay with you if that happened? Don't get me wrong, I'd do anything for you and the little bun in the oven, but I'd sure as shit beat the fuck out of Wesker if he skipped out on you two. He's a guy to look up to…but if it's a family, or even a future you want, then I suggest looking elsewhere, Claire." He added quickly, "And I'm not just saying that because he's my boss and you're my sister. I want the best for you. He obviously makes you happy now... But you have to realize that this can't last forever. Look at the age difference, your experience, the point where you're at in your life… Wesker's been through that already. What are you going to do if he decides you have no place in his life anymore? What if he goes for someone older? Do you have a plan to get back on your feet if something like that were to happen?"
Claire looked away, slowly sitting back into her position, the bitter truth eating away at her heart. "I…I guess I didn't even consider all that, Chris. I mean, who does at this age?" She scoffed, placing a hand under her chin. "You make it sound like I'm ready to settle down."
Chris placed the second empty bottle next to the first. "I don't think Wesker can ever settle down, Claire. That's what I'm trying to get at. Yeah, it could be considered early to think about all that with someone your age, but Wesker isn't. Like I said, he lived out his youth—whatever he did back then—and he's all about work and doing things his way now. You still have plenty of years ahead of you, Claire. Don't rush into something your heart isn't in—"
"I love him," Claire said, taking Chris for a loop, as the latter's head snapped back in disbelief.
"You love him?" Chris couldn't help himself, and smiled, rubbing a hand over his face. "So, I guess what we just talked about went in one ear and out the other, right?" He sighed. "Goddammit…"
"I heard what you said, Chris," Claire reasoned, scooting her chair closer to him. "I just… He means everything to me. I know you probably think I don't know what I'm talking about, or what I feel is just a measly crush, but it's not; I know in my heart it's not, no matter how many times I've tried denying myself that."
The older Redfield crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, keeping his eyes on his beer bottles. "Does Wesker know?" He asked with uncertainty, as though hoping Claire hadn't told him yet.
"No. There was a time I was going to tell him, but I guess our call got disconnected…"
Chris rolled his eyes. "Right. How convenient…" Growing tension filled the air, before Chris spoke again. "Are you going to tell him?"
"I want to, Chris," Claire said, desperation swimming in her blue eyes. "I've been hurting for some time, you know? As cheesy and clichéd as it sounds, it's making me very sick; and you telling me he might not even feel the same hurts all the more."
"Well, I didn't say he doesn't love you, though I wouldn't get my hopes too high," Chris warned, reaching over and placing a hand on Claire's shoulder. "I'm sure he cares a great deal for you, but I honestly can't say what's in his heart; he's much too hard to read, aside from the obvious." His eyes drifted to the clock on the wall; it was almost 8 o'clock.
"So…What should I do?" Claire asked, drawing Chris' attention back to her. "I'm a little scared of what will happen, Chris. He might…" She bit her lip, finding it easier to stare at the paint spots on her brother's shirt.
He might what? Claire thought. He might hurt you, not have the same feelings for you, might laugh at you?
Chris moved his hand from her shoulder to her head, and gave her hair a ruffle. "Hey, don't do that—don't beat yourself up. You just gotta be strong, sit him down, tell him how you feel, and then see what he says. If he doesn't feel the same, at least you'll know and you can make your decision then. If he does feel the same…" He paused, taking note of the wavering hope that appeared on Claire's face. "Then, big bro will be here to support you; no matter what, OK? But you have to promise me something, Claire. If he hurts you or disrespects you in any way, you have to tell me, alright? If he's the man he claims to be, he'll do what a real man would, and not what some punk kid will. Promise me?"
Relief washed over Claire's face, and she stood to hug Chris tightly around his broad shoulders. "I promise, meatwad," she said, trying to muffle her sobs. "I promise. A-and, I'm sorry for keeping this from you for so long…"
Chris held her tightly, and gave a couple pats to her back. "I haven't exactly been fair with you, Claire, so it's only natural you'd be too scared to come clean, especially when it concerns Wesker." He pulled back and placed both hands on her shoulders. "Be strong, no matter what, be strong. Redfields don't wuss out, remember?"
Claire gave a few nods, wiping her eyes of her lingering tears. "Damn right. We're ass kickers."
"And never forget it."
It had been ten minutes since Claire walked into the STARS office to meet with Chris—ten whole minutes without so much as a glance in Wesker's direction. While he drummed his fingers against his desk, waiting for a document to load on the computer, he casually leaned over and stole a few glances in their direction, and, to his dismay, Claire had yet to acknowledge him. Wesker realized her brother would be first priority when visiting the precinct, and trying to convince Claire otherwise would only prove to be irrational and—dare he say—selfish? But Wesker was a selfish man. He didn't get where he was by sharing and helping others achieve what he had worked so hard for, oh no. So whenever anyone decided to invade his territory, he made sure to show them who they were dealing with.
Having no such luck in catching Claire's wandering eyes, Wesker decided to take matters into his own hands. He swiveled the chair to the side, and stepped out of his office with an empty coffee mug towards the Redfields and, now, Barry. They looked up as he approached.
"Hey, Captain," Barry greeted, and stood from his desk. "Need a refill already?" He glanced at Jill. "Guess you need to fire a certain coffee girl, huh?"
Jill narrowed her eyes at Barry. "Technically, it's not my job, but who am I to deny our dear captain such a modest request when asked?" Jill joked, sharing a laugh with Barry.
"It's because you're the only one who won't put up a fuss, Jill," Chris added. "You're too soft, and that makes you the primary target."
"Oh, look who's talking!"
"That's enough, children. Recess isn't for another fifteen minutes," Wesker chided, and glanced at Claire when he heard muffled giggles. The hard expression he wore softened considerably, but he held his firm tone. "It's like watching a class of preschoolers, isn't it, Miss Redfield? Why you would risk losing your sanity to come here is quite the mystery."
Jill's voice rang out in protest, and Joseph, who was quiet until now, joined in her defense, but Wesker ignored them, rolling his eyes from behind his lenses.
"Well, between you and me, Wesker," Claire said softly, "my sanity left me the moment I met you."
The room dropped to a dead silence.
Jill, who had been arguing seconds before, left her mouth open in surprise, looking back and forth between Wesker and Claire, watching the two stare each other down, neither one willing to look away. Barry, Joseph, and even Brad, who was jotting down notes from his computer, looked up in confusion.
Chris remained neutral by his sister's side. He knew she was struggling with her feelings inside, and like himself, the only way to get them out was to express them, no matter who was around to hear or see them. He put an arm around Claire, bringing her out of her frozen stare.
"I'm with you there, Claire. But it's like they say, misery loves company." And just like that, the ice was broken. Wesker scoffed, hiding a grin behind his serious expression, and looked away. Barry and Joseph laughed at the comment, while Jill covered her mouth and hid behind her computer screen.
"And now, it seems, that misery made a mistake when choosing his company," Wesker said, excusing himself from the group and walking out of the office.
"Well, that plan backfired," Claire muttered to herself, sending Chris a glare.
"The captain's going to kick the shit out of you one day, dude," Joseph said from his desk, a smile plastered on his lips. "And you can bet your sweet ass all my money is going on him."
"He'll come for you next, Frost," Barry said, folding his hands over his stomach as he leaned back in his seat. "Then everyone in the precinct will put their money against you."
"I'd definitely pay to see that," Jill chimed in, taking a sip of her cold tea by her keyboard. "You need a good beatdown, Frost."
"Aha! Proof you're violent nature is endless." Joseph turned to Brad. "Chicken, are you writing this down?"
As Joseph continued to pester Brad, Chris ushered Claire towards the door. "We're going to lunch, guys. Be back later."
When the two were in the hall and out of earshot, Claire smacked Chris' shoulder. "What the heck was that back there?"
"What?"
"You know what, Chris. That little awkward moment we had."
Chris shook his head. "Claire, I saved your butt from embarrassment. I mean, Wesker might've known what you meant, but the others were looking at you like you were calling him out. I had to say something to ease the tension."
"Yeah, but you didn't have to make him leave like that," Claire countered.
"Look." He stopped and turned to Claire. "Let's just forget about it. I'm sorry. I won't interfere like that again. But just know that this time, I really did save you. You can bet that if I didn't, Jill would be prodding you with questions until she was blue in the face. And that's another thing." He pulled Claire close, and his voice drifted into a whisper. "Be careful what you say around here. The walls have ears, you know? Trust me, people like to talk and word gets around fast. Be smart about this, Claire."
When Chris and Claire returned from lunch, Wesker was nowhere to be found. According to Barry, the Alpha Captain never came back from the break room, and not one officer Chris had asked had seen him in the last hour. However strange it was, Wesker's car was still in the lot, and Chris came to the conclusion that he was somewhere in the building.
"Maybe he's kicking the shit out of Irons," Chris joked, and plopped down in his chair, firing up his computer. He turned to Claire. "I'm gonna be a while, Claire, so if you wanna head home or wait it out…"
"I guess I'll stick around for a little while," Claire replied, heading for the door. "Just gotta use the potty first."
"Make sure you spray," Chris called, causing the entire Alpha team to laugh.
And I still can't figure out how we're related…
Claire shook her head and headed for the restrooms, paying no heed to the officers that passed her, as she walked by. She made a left turn and walked down the stairs towards the lobby, and stopped when the STARS team picture caught her eye. She moved closer to see all the members lined up in two rows, one behind the other, each with a rifle in their hands, and a STARS chopper behind them. She immediately noticed Wesker, him being the only one with a stoic expression and sunglasses, while the others offered a smile; they almost said, "I want to be here," and Wesker's hardened features questioned, "Why am I here?" He was good at what he did, that was certain, but Claire had to question if Wesker was really happy here, or if he was happy in general. He put on the mask when he needed to and performed his job to the highest of expectations; and yet, each time Claire looked into his stone-cold eyes, she saw pain fighting to reach the surface. She'd never have the courage to ask Wesker about it, for he'd most likely turn away from her or demand she drop the matter altogether. Of course, she wouldn't just drop it by any means, but postponing it until she felt brave enough to discuss it would suit her just fine.
Claire moved on and headed for the restroom, and when she finished, she decided to search for Wesker.
If his car is still in the lot, then he couldn't have gone far.
The first place she decided to check was the gun range, and when she asked the officer in the armory if he'd seen Wesker, he shrugged and shook his head no. The disappointment on her face was short-lived, and she continued her search. From the range, Claire ventured into the small recreational area of the west wing, and pushed through the door leading to the pool. A few officers were swimming laps back and forth, and she could hear the sizzle of Jacuzzi bubbles forming at the surface as she passed by. Across the pool she spotted a game of two on two, the officers with the basketball making their way to the court until one shot and swished the ball into the basket. She smiled, briefly remembering when she and Chris would play at the park as children when their parents were at work, before heading into the gym.
Upon entering, Claire involuntarily flinched at the sound of iron plates hitting the floor; a similar sound followed before Claire found the source of the noise. Wesker was at the far end of the room, bent over an Olympic bar with several 45's on either end. He was panting hard in the quiet room; sweat glistened across his naked, muscular back, and he took another deep breath before gripping the bar and pulling it up with him into a standing position. He stood to his full height, and then bent himself over as before, letting the weight hit the floor and releasing the bar entirely. When Wesker walked over to his discarded shirt on a bench next to his sunglasses, he gave his face a wipedown, and when he spotted Claire watching him at the entrance, he pulled the shirt away and held it.
The two were locked in a staredown, and although they both held each other's eyes with their own, Claire knew if she didn't speak up soon, Wesker's intense and predatory eyes would force her to back down.
"So, this is where you've been," Claire said, lingering at the door as if waiting for permission to enter. When Wesker looked away to toss his shirt back on the bench, Claire moved in and started towards him, letting her eyes travel over his muscular physique, before meeting his eyes once more. "How much were you lifting?"
Wesker glanced at the weight, and back at Claire. "440," he said, dryly. "I suppose it's an acceptable weight, for now, but it won't be that way for long."
Claire gave a nod. "I have no doubts about that. Well," she shrugged, "I guess I'll leave you to it. I know how you gym rats like your peace."
As she turned to leave, Wesker called her back. "Sit on my back," he instructed, moving to grab his shirt again. When Claire gave him an unsure look, he got down into a pushup position, propping himself up with one knee. "Sit." He pointed to his back, and held the shirt out for Claire.
"I-uh…Wait, what? You want me to sit on your back…on the shirt you just wiped all your sweat on? What do I look like to you?"
"You look like the woman that's going to be thrown into the pool, if you don't get down here, and—"
"Fine, fine," Claire said, grabbing the shirt and unfolding it across Wesker's back. She was slow to climb on, fearful that she might hurt him or cause severe discomfort in his lower back. "Are you sure…?"
Wesker's voice was strained, as he craned his head around. "Just sit down and cross your legs." He turned back around, a smug grin crossing his lips. "Pretend you're riding a magic carpet."
Claire resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Yeah right. I don't see the magic—Ahh!" Wesker didn't wait for her to finish, as he began his reps with ease. Claire held onto his shoulders for stability, feeling the sweat on her fingers.
"Why don't you just—woah—use weights on you back?"
"To be frank, I'd much rather have a woman riding me than a bunch of iron," Wesker replied between exhales, and when Claire didn't respond—figuring she was shocked by his careful undertones—he added, "I see it as motivation…amongst other things. You're fairly light. I thought you'd weigh much more than this."
"Huh?! Just what the hell does that mean?!" She gently pulled the hairs at the base of his neck. "Are you calling me fat?!"
Wesker did an immediate roll that sent Claire onto the floor, and he was on top of her before she could sit up, straddling her waist. "You seem to enjoy taking words out of context, don't you, Claire? If you listened carefully, I said you appeared to weigh more, when, in fact, you don't. However, I would assume that's because I'm strong enough to press your weight on my back with ease."
"Well, bravo for you," Claire replied. "Next time, I'll make sure to shove a dozen cupcakes down my throat to give you a challenge." Her attempt to sit up was denied, when Wesker pressed more of his body on top of her until their chests were touching. "Oh great. I'm all sweaty and gross now."
"I don't recall you ever complaining about sweat," Wesker said, moving loose strands of hair from her face. "The only difference this time is you still have all your clothes on."
"Oh, get a grip, Wesker," Claire groaned at the suggestion, and shifted under him, frowning when he chuckled. "It's not funny. You and your libido need a reality check."
Wesker brushed his lips over Claire's, amused by her attempts to jab him with her words. "Forgive me. Physical training, such as weightlifting, causes a spike in testosterone production. Technically, this is out of my hands…but by all means, feel free to stop me."
His last words were daring, something Wesker knew too well that Claire couldn't ignore. Like Chris, Claire was more than willing to try any dare or challenge—the fault being their Redfield pride and stubbornness—and that made Wesker all the more satisfied. He was like a child who continuously poked a dog with a stick, waiting to see just how long it would take until it snapped at him.
Wesker pulled back slightly, and, feeling the loss of his smooth lips against her own, Claire snaked a hand behind his head, and pulled him in close. "You're such a butthead, Wesker," she whispered, and kissed him, grabbing a fistful of short locks at the back of his skull. The slight tug made him moan into her mouth, and press his hips into hers shortly after.
Claire felt the slight bulge through his sweatpants and she immediately pulled back, breathing heavily. "Don't get any funny ideas…"
Wesker chuckled, pressing his hips against Claire once more. "I said feel free to stop me."
"I'm trying to, but it doesn't seem to be working."
"Pulling my hair isn't exactly the way to go," he glanced down where his hips were nestled between Claire's legs, and grinned. "Clearly…"
Claire fought the smile forcing its way on her lips. "You pervert…Next time, I'm going to run from you, if you try this crap on me again."
"That won't work either, I'm afraid. The thrill of the chase can be very…enticing. Unless you want me to tackle you from behind, which I'm sure you wouldn't mind—"
"Yeah, because who doesn't enjoy being sandwiched between you and the concrete?" Claire shook her head, attempting to sit up, to which Wesker complied and sat back, placing his weight on the balls of his feet. She gave his chest and shoulders a look over, noticing the veins trailing up his deltoids. "I should probably get going," she said at last. "You and your dirty mind have conjured up enough thoughts for one afternoon."
Wesker took both of Claire's hands in his, and pulled them both up to full height. "You have no idea… I was about to propose you join me in a shower, but I'm sure Chris wouldn't like the idea of his captain getting his sister soaking wet."
The smirk on Wesker's face made Claire heat up. "You are a dirty old man, you know that?" She pointed an accusing finger. "If I were you, I'd march right to that shower and turn the cold water on full blast, and cool that flaming jalapeno you have under there." Claire glanced at the bulge, and back up to Wesker. "If you keep this up, you're going to poke someone's eye out."
Wesker chuckled, placing his hands on his hips in an arrogant manner. "Flattery isn't your best suit, but I suppose, in this case, your scenario is possible."
Claire gave a frustrated growl, and turned away, walking towards the exit. "Dirty and arrogant… What was I thinking? The nerve of me…" She opened the door, and gave Wesker one last look over. "I hope when dinner time comes, you'll have regained some civility. Otherwise, you'll get no dessert." Claire let her suggestive tone linger with a grin, before closing the door behind her.
The entire drive home was madness—unfiltered and raw. Wesker replayed his encounter with Claire over and over, finding it rather difficult to push the memory to the back of his mind. No matter how many times he convinced himself that she was merely someone he kept to amuse him, his heart would beat furiously in denial. Why? Why was it that every encounter with Claire Redfield made his brain hazy? Why did he pretend he didn't care for her, but couldn't deny her anything when she needed him? And at the Police Station… Why did he care if she acknowledged him or not? Who was Claire Redfield, other than his marksman's little sister?
Wesker clenched and unclenched his gloved hands over the steering wheel. He didn't need anyone's attention. He was Albert Wesker. How foolish of him to meddle with those less than himself, expecting her or anyone else to understand what he was about. Who was he kidding?
The more Wesker's thoughts ricocheted inside his skull, the angrier and humiliated he felt. He disliked-no, absolutely hated the idea of feeling any sort of attachment or affection for another. The fact that Claire forced him to open up, forced him to reveal little bits of his persona to her, was unfathomable and one of this biggest mistakes of his life.
You give them an inch and they take a mile, Wesker thought, and exhaled deeply to calm his nerves. She'll be the death of me, if I don't put a stop to it now. All I have to do is walk away… and then it will all be over.
He pulled into his driveway and pressed the breaks harder than he meant to, causing the tires to screech against the pavement. With one last breath, he nodded to himself, reassuring his mind that it was overworking again, and that he'd drive himself into oblivion if he kept poking at such trifling matters. All he needed was a drink or two, and a nice nap to reset his body.
After grabbing his bag, Wesker shut and locked the car, making his way to the front door of his house. He picked the house key from around the key ring, and unlocked the door, shutting it behind him.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
The delicious smell of pasta—possibly Chicken Alfredo, if he wasn't mistaken—flooded his nostrils, and the strong scent of garlic made his mouth water. He hadn't eaten most of the day, and he could feel his stomach contract and grumble inside; he was downright starving. He removed his boots and placed them next to the coat rack, and went into the kitchen just as Claire was removing the tray of garlic bread from the oven.
When Claire placed the tray on the stove, she removed the oven mitts from her hands, and smiled warmly at Wesker. "Hey, stud muffin. You're just in time. I made your favorite." She stopped, glanced at the pasta, and then back at Wesker. "It is Chicken Alfredo, right?"
Wesker said nothing and, in an instant, his anger and determination to rid her from his life, vanished. With careful steps, he moved towards Claire, who tensed on the spot.
"Y-you know, I just wanted to say sorry for breaking in again, but I really wanted to make dinner for you and—"
Wesker's strong arms pulled her body to him, and he kissed her fiercely. He had managed to drown out the disapproving voice inside his head, and give in to his desire—to have what he wanted without starting a mental debate with his morals and ideals. It was wrong, oh-so-terribly-wrong…and it never felt so good.
Claire was the first to pull back, but just enough for them to catch their breaths. She stared into his dark lenses with a frown. "Take those things off, please?"
"You can do the honors," Wesker replied, a hint of a smirk on his lips. Claire licked her lips, and carefully removed and folded his lenses. Her eyes brightened upon seeing the stone-blue hues, and her frown quickly changed into a smile. "Better?" Wesker asked, planting kisses at the corners of her mouth, and she couldn't help but laugh.
"So… Does this mean I'm not in trouble?"
Rows of teeth were revealed behind Wesker's devious smile. "Oh, you're in trouble, alright. So, so much trouble…" A gloved hand held her chin, and he ran his thumb across her lips. "The only thing left to do now is punish you."
Claire's cheery mood melted away. "You wanna punish me?! With what, a smack on the ass? I'm not five years old, you know?"
Wesker seemed amused by her suggestion, and inclined his head arrogantly. "As delicious as that sounds, I'm afraid it just won't do. You see, when a punishment is dealt by my hand, I make sure it's to the fullest extent; and subjecting you to something less than that would be unlike me."
Claire backed away until she was against the counter, and Wesker closed in to prevent her from moving.
"Oh... and don't think I've forgotten your little rebellion at the gym. That will cost you dearly." Wesker's smirk returned and he pressed his hips against Claire's, who instinctively wrapped her arms around the small of his back. "I do hope you'll enjoy this as much as I will, Claire." He purred her name, and Claire couldn't help the goosebumps forming on her skin. His voice was so pleasing to hear—every syllable that rolled off his tongue held a buttery smooth texture, which Claire found hard to resist.
Wesker noticed the trance he had put Claire in, and decided to break it by lifting her onto the counter, placing his palms on either side of her, and leaning until their foreheads were nearly touching. "Before I carry out this righteous deed, I need to know something, Claire. Do you fear me?"
Claire swallowed hard, feeling a sudden rush of anxiety hit her nerves. Her mind was forced back into her conversation with Chris the other day, and suddenly, Claire didn't know how to respond. Of course Wesker intimidated Claire, now that she thought back on it, but fear was too strong of a word to describe her feelings towards him.
I suppose it's now or never…
Claire took a deep breath and gently combed her fingers through Wesker's hair, keeping her eyes locked on his, noticing the impatience that started to grow inside them.
"Do I fear you?" Claire mused, giving his hair one last rake through, before running a thumb over a golden brow. "That's kind of a weird question to ask. There's feelings I have for you, but fear is not one of them." Wesker opened his mouth to respond, but Claire wasn't finished. Instead, she closed the gap between them, cradling the base of his skull with both hands, pulling him forward until they were inches apart.
"I don't know what it is about you, Wesker," she continued, "but I've never met someone who, at one point, I can't stand and another, I can't live without. It goes without saying that you've done and said some hurtful things to me, but you've always managed to swallow your pride and make things right. So… I guess what I'm trying to say is that I—"
Ding Dong
The sound of the doorbell startled them both, and Wesker curled his lip in annoyance, hoping that whoever was on his doorstep had a good reason for interrupting, but decided against answering the door.
"Please continue," Wesker said, voice filled with urgency.
"I-uh… I was just gonna say that I—"
Ding Dong
Wesker gave a slight growl of annoyance, and stepped away from Claire. "Excuse me," he said, and started for the door. When he opened it to see who it was, his annoyed expression remained until he saw Sherry pop out from her father's side. He looked at William.
"The doorbell works, in case you were wondering," Wesker muttered, leaning on the doorframe with one hand on the doorknob.
"Well, it took you long enough. You're lucky I forgot my battering ram at home," William teased, and crossed his arms. "Still in your costume, I see."
"I just got off work, if that's what you mean," Wesker said with a scoff.
"Right… So, are you gonna let us in, or just leave us to fry out here?"
"Sherry may enter, but wild animals must remain outside." Wesker smirked when William huffed like a child, and stepped back to let them through. Both Birkins entered and inhaled simultaneously.
"It smells delicious in here, Albert," Sherry said with a smile. "I didn't know you cooked dinner."
"I didn't know you cooked at all," William added, suspicion glazing his features. "Or did you decide on takeout?"
"I've done neither. I have a special guest, here, that has cooked for me." Wesker headed for the kitchen. Claire was setting the table with utensils and plates, when the trio walked in. She stood up immediately, glancing awkwardly between Wesker and his guests.
"Um… Hello?"
"William, Sherry—this is Claire Redfield." Wesker put an arm around her shoulders. "William is a longtime colleague and friend, and this is his daughter Sherry."
Claire extended her hand to Sherry and then to William, who shook it slowly as though contemplating something. "Pleased to meet you both. I actually just finished dinner, if you both are hungry. I made more than enough." She gave Wesker a look. "If that's alright with you?"
Wesker shrugged. "If there's more than enough… Who am I to turn down two hungry mouths?" He snickered and received a glare from William.
"Great. Have a seat and I'll bring everything over. Sherry, would you like to help me? I need another pair of hands." Claire gave a wink, and Sherry smiled, following Claire to the stove. "Just get those potholders, there…"
William turned his back on the girls, and pulled Wesker into the living room and out of earshot.
"Claire Redfield? Claire Redfield? Isn't that the last name of your cop buddy?" William asked in a harsh whisper.
"I'm glad your memory hasn't totally vanished, William. But yes, to put your mind at ease, they are siblings; Chris is the older of the two."
"Oh clearly!" William retorted with a roll of his eyes. "That's not what I'm getting at, Al. You always come into the lab with a stick up your ass, complaining about how Chris gets to you and how he watches his sister like a gargoyle, and yet here you are messing around—" William stopped himself short, realization dawning on his features; his eyes were wide and his mouth left open, as he looked into Wesker's eyes.
"Ohhhh," he drawled, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. "I understand now." He tapped his index finger, repeatedly, into Wesker's Kevlar vest. "That boy in the tank—our Tyrant—he was the one affiliating himself with Claire, wasn't he? That's why you brought him to the lab—not because he was mentally ill—but because he was a threat to you; he was trying to take Claire away from you. And Claire is the girl that I mentioned back then." William nodded, feeling all the pieces being put together. "It all makes sense, now. No wonder Chris is after your head."
Wesker looked away and sighed. "You're insufferable, William. Chris already knows of our relationship, and whether he likes it or not, he no longer has a say in the matter, and neither do you. Keep that mouth of yours quiet."
William couldn't help but laugh. "You dog. I can't believe you've been keeping this from me." He crossed his arms. "You must like her a lot then, if you haven't taken care of her already. And if she's anything like her brother, I'm sure she gives you a run for your money, huh?"
"She's merely a loose end that will be dealt with just like the others," Wesker said with finality, and turned away. "I will hear no more on this subject, William. Play the role, unless I say otherwise."
That tone didn't sit well with William, and instead of arguing, he merely nodded and headed back into the kitchen.
Wesker hardly said a word during dinner, being too focused on eating his pasta—three servings down, and nearly halfway into his fourth. William and Claire were engrossed in their own conversation, while Sherry sat next to her father, listening intently and only speaking when she felt it necessary to add her two cents.
"So, what's it like in the pharmaceutical business, Will? I bet it's pretty interesting," Claire said, before taking a swig of soda.
William gave a modest nod. "It's very monotonous, Claire. Although it is interesting, the day can drag on sometimes, and it can get to the point where you want to strangle someone." He shot a glance towards Wesker, who took a large bite out of his garlic bread. "But as long as you're busy with your work, time passes you by."
"That's really awesome. I wish I was a science whiz; the medical field has always been so fascinating to me."
"Well, maybe Al can help you out with that. He's a nerd at heart," William teased, before receiving a kick to the shin from Wesker from under the table. He grunted in pain, and shook his head. "You know, now that I think about it, Al was more of a History kinda guy. Don't know what the hell I was thinking…"
"Dad, are you OK?" Sherry asked, scrunching her face in confusion. "You look like you need to poop."
Claire burst out laughing. "Oh man, you do, Will!" Claire gave Sherry a high five from across the table. "Classic, Sherry."
"That's not funny," William said, narrowing his eyes at Claire, and then at Sherry.
"It's quite comical, William," Wesker said, slurping up the last of his noodles. "It's what happens when you can't control your big mouth. You end up in pain. Isn't that right?" Claire and Sherry exchanged looks between themselves, and William scoffed, giving Wesker a wave-like gesture.
"Police brutality. That's all I'm gonna say."
"Oh, I know what you mean, Will," Claire agreed, discreetly moving her hand to rest on Wesker's thigh, and giving it a gentle squeeze. Wesker turned his head slightly, to view Claire from the corner of his eye. "I've been subjected to that myself."
"Really?" William said, smiling to himself. "Do tell, Claire."
"She doesn't have to," Wesker replied curtly.
"I'm not talking to you."
"But I'm talking to you."
"Stop being rude, Al."
"Stop prying, William."
Claire gave another squeeze to Wesker's thigh, moving up towards his pelvis, tightening her grip until her fingers rested on the inside of his thigh. Wesker tightened his jaw, and his breathing quickened, Claire noticed, and she couldn't help but internally smile.
"I don't mind telling you, Will. You see, I'm sure you know Wesker can be a hard ass, right?" She propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand. "Well, I've gone toe to toe with him. Verbally, anyway. And let's just say I held my own." She smiled at Wesker, who gave her a smirk in return.
"Is that true, Al?" William said with interest. "This little lady, here, give you a taste of your own medicine?"
Claire's fingers lingered dangerously near his crotch, awaiting Wesker's answer. He retained his smirk, and turned his attention towards William. "With Claire being the young lady she is, I can honestly say she's put up with quite a lot. Not very many people can take what I throw at them, and it certainly surprised me when Claire defied those odds. I must admit, she's quite the fighter." Claire, satisfied with his answer, squeezed Wesker's thigh one final time, before letting her hand fall to her side.
"That pretty much sums me up," Claire agreed, finishing off her can of soda with a satisfying "ahh." She looked at the Birkins across from her. "Would either of you like more?"
William shook his head, and laid a hand across his stomach. "It was delicious, Claire, but no thanks. As much as I love pasta, this belly of mine can only hold so much." He nodded towards Wesker. "I don't have metabolisms like some people."
"I don't normally consume this much food in one sitting either, but Claire, apparently, is eager to win my heart," Wesker said, offering Claire a grin; she rolled her eyes.
"Oh yeah, because that's the number one goal on my agenda," Claire replied sarcastically. "Somebody put me out of my misery for making his favorite food."
This caught William by surprise, and he looked back and forth between Claire and Wesker. "Favorite? You mean Claire went through all this trouble just to make you your favorite?" Wesker didn't reply, and William internally scoffed, remembering how Wesker, not an hour earlier, referred to Claire as a "loose end." Normally, William would agree, as all the women Wesker ever went out with, secretly, or had one-night-stands with, were nobodies he'd picked up from bars or Umbrella social events—under the heavy influence of alcohol, no less—but none showed the care and compassion, and even attention to detail quite like Claire did. William had to sit back and wonder if Claire was more than just a loose end Wesker was twirling around his finger until he no longer had any use for her. William, despite not knowing Claire for very long, took a quick liking to her, and admired her boldness, especially when it came to putting Wesker in his place; it was definitely something he didn't see anyone do on a daily basis.
William yawned and turned his wrist to check his watch, and his eyes widened at the time. "Good gravy, it's gonna be 9:30. Your mom's gonna raise hell when we get home, for me keeping you out late; you have school tomorrow," he said to Sherry, and then stood from his seat. He extended his hand to Claire. "Claire, it was a pleasure meeting you, and I do hope we see each other real soon. You seem like the kind of gal that will keep this big lug at bay, because I know you got a taste of what could transpire if he's left unattended."
Claire laughed at the compliment, and gave Wesker's shoulder a squeeze when he shot a glare at William. "I guess it's in the genes. I am a fighter, after all."
"No argument here," William agreed, and turned to Sherry. "Let's get going, Pumpkin, before your mom hunts me down."
"Thanks for having us for dinner, Albert, Claire. It was a lot of fun. Hopefully, we can do this again, sometime." She gave Claire a hug, and then moved to Wesker, hugging him tightly, and letting go.
"I'll walk you out," Wesker said to William, and brushed his fingers across Claire's shoulders as he passed.
"Wait in the car, Sherry," William instructed, and moved further away from the porch, joining Wesker on the lawn. The older blond had his hands in his pockets with a stiff posture, keeping his eyes forward.
"I already know what you're going to say, William," Wesker began. "You want me to spare Clare's life… But the fact of the matter is, she's a distraction and will join her brother, and the rest of the loose ends, in death soon enough."
William scoffed. "There's no sparing the details with you, is there?" Wesker didn't reply, and William continued with a sigh. "Look, I'm not asking you to spare anyone's life; asking you to do that or asking anything akin to that never yields good results. Claire's a good person, Al; I know that, Sherry knows that, even you know that. I don't know her brother to say the same for him, but all I ask is this: think very carefully about your actions before you do them. Claire cares a lot about you; it's so damn obvious. You can't deny that you have similar feelings, Al."
Wesker turned on William and put one of his shoulders in a vice grip under his fingers, and then pulled away just as quick, once he remembered Sherry was in the car. "Stop with these sentiments, William. I don't know what kind of romance novels you've been reading lately, but what you're thinking or what you think you know or feel does not exist—not between Claire and me, and not inside here." Wesker tapped his chest. "She's just a variable that was placed in my equation, and now it's my job to cancel her out."
William shook his head, giving Wesker an unconvinced look. "Then if that's the case, drag her out here right now and kill her in front of me, in front of Sherry. If you truly believe she serves no purpose in your life, put a bullet in her head and let her brains decorate the grass. Go ahead!" Wesker remained still, gritting his teeth. "No? Then maybe you're not so sure of yourself after all, huh, Al? Maybe you're not as cold-hearted as you've lead yourself to believe, because the Al I know isn't a monster. The Al I know has done some questionable shit in his life, but so has good ol' Willy B; it tends to happen when you're being crushed under another's thumb, doesn't it?
"So if you're really set on killing her, then do it with an audience, because this behind the scenes bullshit is for people that should suffer fates worse than death. People like Spencer should be shot pointblank in a dead-end alley in the middle of the night, not some poor, innocent girl, who's fallen deeply in love with a man that claims he doesn't give a shit about her."
Wesker's hardened features lightened to a degree, but the boiling anger was evident in his voice. "I don't know where the fuck you get your balls, William, but you've clearly convinced yourself that they were big enough to challenge me."
"When I feel it's necessary to speak up, I do it, Al. I thought you of all people would respect that."
Wesker's form shook from the tension, and he stepped aside to calm himself. He focused on deep, heavy breaths until he felt his muscles relax and his heartbeat slow. "Just because you've said your peace, doesn't mean my plans will change, William. For all you know, you might've just wasted your breath."
"No… I'm sure I didn't. I know you heard every word I said, Al. All you gotta do now is ask your heart which is the right thing to do." William pulled away, and started for his car, not looking back or waving goodbye when he drove off into the cool night. Wesker watched him leave, and gave a long, exasperated sigh, before heading inside.
Claire was curled up on the couch with the remote in her hand, watching COPS on TV with half-lidded eyes. She had finished the dishes and had packed the leftovers into Tupperware containers inside the fridge, before settling herself on the sofa until Wesker was finished with his talk. The blond removed his boots and STARS button up, leaving him in a plain white tee, as he walked over to join Claire on the couch. When he came into her line of sight, she immediately sat up, but Wesker motioned for her to stay. She remained in her seat, and decided to stay sitting up rather than resuming her curled up position. Wesker took a seat next to her and dragged her feet, so she faced him.
"Are you OK?" Claire asked, reaching out to touch his face, but her hand was caught between Wesker's, holding it mid-air in front of his face. Claire looked back and forth between their hands and Wesker, but he said nothing. Instead, he lowered her hand back down and released it, and then removed his glasses with his other hand. His predatory gaze was in place, and Claire couldn't help but feel intimidated, feeling the light gloss of sweat across her palms against the leather of the couch.
"I believe it's time we continue our conversation from earlier. It's been postponed long enough, don't you think?" Wesker said, watching Claire press her lips together, dread finding its way over her features. "Fear not. I want you to say your peace, Claire. Get it all out now…"
…Before I do something I'll regret for the rest of my life.
"Oh… Well, earlier, you asked if I feared you, and I said I didn't," Claire began, finding it hard not to look away from Wesker. "I don't fear you at all. In fact… I love you, Albert Wesker." Tears swelled up in her eyes. "I'd do anything for you. And I don't give a shit what everyone says or what they might think, I know I love you. These past few months have been hard—there's no doubt about that—but everything that happened always traveled back to you. You helped me in every situation I found myself drowning in, even when it came to my own brother. At first I thought, 'Gee, Claire, you're a real sucker for having a crush on this guy, when you know he's out of your league,' but I couldn't help it, Wesker, I just couldn't!"
Claire wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and she continued with a shaky voice. "And you know what? I still think you're out of my league, but damn it to hell if I wasn't going to try to put myself out there. You intimidated me, but I wasn't afraid to challenge you, not like everyone else was. I found it liberating, that one person actually cared to look my way and accept me for the person I am." Claire looked away from Wesker's unchanging expression and sighed. "There… I said it. It doesn't matter what you think, at this point. I just thought you deserved to know the truth, after all the bullshit both of us have gone through…"
The awkward silence grew too much for Claire to bear, and she made an attempt to leave with whatever dignity remained, only to be pulled back down by Wesker.
"I think it'd be a good idea if I left, Wesker," Claire grounded out, feeling her cheeks heat up from embarrassment. "Did you hear me? I said I think I should—"
Wesker pushed Claire back onto the cushions and pressed his weight on top of her, crashing his lips against hers. She mouthed something, but he ignored it and continued kissing her, blindly taking her arms and encircling his neck with them. Claire's fingers combed through the hair at the base of his skull a few times, before she tugged on them, receiving the same pleased groan from Wesker as she had in the gym.
"I love you, butthead," she whispered between kisses, taking a breath when she had the chance, before Wesker's lips continued their assault. His hands roamed over her body, stopping over her breasts, and then down to the zipper of her jeans. Claire gasped at the touch, and Wesker released the zipper, but kept his hands there, and moved his kisses across her jaw and then to her neck, where his lips lingered against the vein.
"You're quite the troublemaker, aren't you, Claire?" Wesker mused, moving down to kiss the crook of her neck; Claire moaned and gripped his hair tighter. He took his time, kissing and licking different spots on her neck. "Always meddling where you shouldn't… Throwing people for a loop, myself in particular… And yet, here you lay beneath the man you love…" Wesker pulled back slightly to speak into her ear, his gravelly voice made the hairs on her neck stand. "Tell me, are you well-acquainted with melting the ice around hearts, Claire?"
Claire's breathing came in short huffs, and Wesker smiled against her ear. "I… Melting hearts?"
"Yes," he drawled. "And you've quite possibly melted the iciest one yet."
Claire's hazy look vanished, and she turned to look at Wesker, and for the first time since she's known him, she couldn't see the trapped pain behind his eyes, and to some degree, relief had spread over his features, like the burden he'd been carrying around his shoulders finally jumped ship.
"Wesker… What are you—"
The default ring of his cell cut Claire short, and she gave an irritated snort. "What the hell? First Will, now your phone? Are you gonna have the neighbors over for tea next?"
Wesker's hard expression returned as he sat up to retrieve his phone from the coffee table. "Wesker… Yes… Are you sure?" There was a long pause as Wesker waited for the other person's response. He nodded. "Alright. I will get in contact with Alpha, and we'll meet Bravo at the scene." He ended the call and placed the phone in his pocket, and then ran a hand through his hair. "That was Enrico."
"The Bravo captain? What did he want?" Claire sat up and followed Wesker to the kitchen, watching him throw his button on over his shoulders, and his vest afterwards.
"He's been getting calls in about bodies turning up in the forest—mutilated and torn apart, and left on the sides of the trails." Wesker carefully went through his buttons and closed them with precision; he strapped his vest tightly around his midsection, and then headed for the stairs. When he returned, he had his gun on his hip and his tactical gloves on. "You better stay here until I return."
"Are you shitting me?! What about you, and Chris, and the others?! You don't know what's out there!" Claire protested, holding on to either side of his vest.
"Precisely why I must go, Claire. I'm the leader of STARS for a reason." He grabbed his boots from the floor, and made his way to the sofa to lace them up. "I want you to stay here. Don't open the door to anyone unless it's William. Don't answer the phone, and only call me if there's an emergency." When he was done, he stood and held her face in his hands. "And whatever you do, don't go home. I can't have you wandering the streets while this investigation is going on." He leaned down to kiss her lips, a small parting gift until he saw her again. He moved to the door and just before he shut it, Claire called him back.
"When will you be home?"
Home, Wesker thought. He hadn't used that term to describe his place of living, ever; to him, it was a house or an apartment, a condo—never a home. Still…he couldn't deny that Claire's presence gave him a reason to want to come back.
"Soon enough. Remember what I told you." He closed the door and vanished into the darkness.
"What have we got?" Wesker said, walking up to stand next to Enrico, as the latter watched Forensics take samples and pictures of the mutilated pair of bodies in the dirt.
"The witnesses that called in said they were having a stroll, and found these two hugging the dirt. Said they take this trail all the time, but have never seen anything like this. According to Forensics, neither have they. The wounds on those corpses are bite marks. Some crazy fucks are out here eating the goddamn flesh off random people."
Just when I thought my night couldn't get any better.
"Are you sure they're human bite marks?" Wesker asked.
"Forensics is positive, but we won't be 100% until we get Jack and Jill, here, to the coroner's. Until paramedics arrive, I've got Bravo sweeping the area for any evidence."
"And where are the witnesses?"
Enrico pointed towards the squad cars. "Forest is taking care of them." Wesker saw Forest jot down notes on his pad of paper, nodding, and pausing momentarily to ask questions. The rest of Bravo was spread out, flashlights in hand, as they backtracked around the trail and the trees. Alpha had followed suit shortly after.
Wesker turned back to Enrico. "Let's pack it up."
"What? But we have to stay and investigate. If we leave this to the rest of the cops, they'll just fuck it up. We have jurisdiction, Wesker."
"I'm well aware of that. But we won't get anything done if we're sitting ducks down here. We're heading back to the station for air support. Bravo will fly in and survey the area from above, and Alpha will move in with a second chopper. Once you've got a perimeter set up, we'll land and be the ground forces. You'll cover us from above until it's safe for you to follow us in. We'll cover more ground this way. Now, round everyone up."
Wesker turned on his heel and headed for his squad car. It didn't take long for the rest of the team to file in.
"What happened? I thought we were gonna stay?" Joseph asked, seeing Wesker settle himself into his car.
"Wesker says we're heading back for air support," Enrico replied. "It will be a lot easier to investigate. Besides, those cannibal fucks are probably long gone from here, so it only makes sense that we catch them by chopper."
"So who's doing what, Wesker?" Chris asked, stepping up to his captain's window.
"Bravo will head out first, and then we will follow; Brad will pilot our bird. I need you to lead us out on the ground, and everyone will provide cover behind you. If everything goes well, we should have these criminals in cuffs and in a cell by dawn. We'll meet at the station to go over the map, ready the choppers for flight, and load up the gear. Move out!"
The team dispersed to their own vehicles, but Chris stayed behind, hand lingering on Wesker's windowsill. "Is she safe?" The marksman asked, with a hint of warning behind his words.
"I need you focused for this mission, Chris—"
"Is she safe, Wesker?" Chris repeated with more of an edge than Wesker anticipated, but the latter understood, and gave an affirmed nod.
"As safe as she can be. You have my word."
The two stared each other down, until Chris gave a nod, satisfied with the answer, and joined Jill in their squad car. Wesker watched them leave, and then followed behind, running the plan over and over in his head.
If everyone cooperates, it should go according to plan.
He pulled out his cell and dialed William's number. After a few rings, William answered on the other side.
"Hey, Al."
"It's time," Wesker said, and ended the call.
This chapter was tough, but it was well worth spending long days and nights writing. I'm very proud of this chapter, but more so of William. I just felt so good writing his scenes, especially his talk with Wesker, because even though he messes up sometimes and is goofy, he really has a good heart, and it shows that he truly cares for others. I think it was a good talk to get Wesker to really open his heart, and for him to refrain from listening to his mind all the time. I'm also a little surprised at Wesker's reaction to these situations I put him in, but like AceofHadeon and I were discussing, Wesker has done some stuff in his life that I'm sure he's not proud of, but felt it was all necessary to achieve his goals, and one of those was to take down Umbrella for what they did to him. I hope it all didn't seem too forced, because Wesker is still adjusting to his feelings, especially towards Claire.
The question I have for everyone is this: What if Wesker decided NOT to kill STARS on his own accord? He will lure them into the mansion (at least that's what's planned for now), but he won't kill them. Everyone will stick together, he'll go off and do his thing to try and steal the data from the computer (as seen in UC), and at this point, he'll inject the virus William made for him. He WILL die by the Tyrant's hand—er, claw?—and will come back before the mansion explodes. Chris and those confronting him will still label him as a dirty traitor, and yadda yadda. The reason why I'm looking for opinions is because I feel, since this story is ending soon, that you guys should be more involved. I'm kinda tired of the same exact events happening over and over in different FF, so I'm trying to break the mold a little. I might not go into full detail of the mansion either, because we all know how that played out.
Anyway, let me know! Much appreciated, guys. Thanks for reading, and a special thanks to MOONLIGHT SHADOW HUNTRESS and AceofHadeon for putting up with my shenanigans these last few days. Thanks to you both for your suggestions and encouragement. Wouldn't have done it without you. GO TEAM WESKER! Until next time—Lil V.