Last one for today. I swear I have no idea where this came from. . . probably too much time in the hospital :/. Now I know this is a little OOC but seriously everyone feels like shit when they're sick.

Sick

January 1997

Wesker groaned, shifting in his bed; fighting to draw his next breath. He'd known the second he'd stepped into the Birkin household that he'd needed to leave-to escape before he'd gotten too immersed to get away . . . But as soon as he'd seen the sheer excitement in Sherry's eyes-accompanied by the pride in William's and the horror in Annette's-Wesker hadn't been able to back out the way his survival instinct had screamed he should.

He'd gone along with his surprisingly exuberant goddaughter, following her to the painfully sloppily labeled sample. He'd peered through the microscope, marginally impressed at the viral bacteria Sherry had grown for her latest science assignment. Praising her efforts as she'd jumped and grinned. Wesker never voiced that he could very clearly tell William had done most of the work-or that he doubted the school board would allow her to present the weak but obviously weaponized strain.

He snorted, the sound muffled by his mucus clogged sinuses; his entire body aching from the small exhale of breath. Why in the hell William had thought teaching Sherry to weaponize the flu was 'proper parenting' was beyond him . . . but knowing the scheming duo had intentionally exposed him to it only solidified his opinion. William Birkin was certifiably insane. He didn't care if they could track the virus in his system and chart possible cures and treatments for the symptoms. He didn't care that he was perfect for this because he rarely became ill and he was in perfect health . . . he refused to be a willing guinea pig.

Even for Sherry.

He groaned, closing his eyes as he covered his face with his hands, trying not to wince at how tender his sinuses were. His whole body was sore and tender, his joints and extremities ached and he could barely draw in a breath without hearing this ungodly wet rattle deep in chest and throat. And that wasn't even counting the nausea from the mucus dripping slowly down his esophagus or the sheer pressure in his head behind his eyes and in his ears.

If there was a hell then he was surely in it . . . and it was all courtesy of the Birkins-specifically the eldest. Who had oh-so-bluntly informed him that this was payback for his attitude on New Year's Eve. Wesker sniffed before sneezing, the force behind the action jerking his neck and shoulders as he groaned; flopping back into the covers in near defeat.

Christ why had he ever kept contact with William?

Hours later cool fingers running over his face made Wesker start back to awareness; turning to find a rather bemused Chaosia lying beside him. Propped on an elbow as she tsked. He blinked; confused before he remembered he'd given her a key. At the time he hadn't second guessed the decision; knowing that her set only opened the front and back doors-leaving his office and the door to his basement- e.g. the private lab beneath the house- safely secured at all times. But as he watched amusement dance behind her eyes he realized that maybe he should've considered this.

His lover was a sadist at heart . . . and he'd caused her enough aggravation the past few months that he knew she was relishing the opportunity to see him so incapacitated.

He glowered up at her before he huffed, the sound nearly muffled by the now solid mucus clogging his nose. Chaosia giggled, tracing his cheeks and nose lightly as she cooed to him; her cool skin a welcome relief from the sudden heat engulfing him. Had he turned on the heat and forgotten . . . or was he truly that feverish? He shivered, the sudden cold chill trilling down his spine answering his question as Chaosia's grin fell; her eyes becoming more worried than amused.

"Oh Albert. You really are miserable aren't you? What have you taken since we talked?"

His brows drew on their own before one raised higher than the other, his snot clogged brain struggling to process what she'd said. She must be infected as well because he hadn't spoken to her at all-not that he recalled anyway.

"What are talking about, Chaosia? I haven't spoken to anyone. I've been trying to sleep-"

"I know, honey. Bastian called me when you took a sick day. And I called you before I went to work. I told you I would come stay the night-take care of you since we're both off tomorrow. Remember?"

He blinked, pushing into a sitting position with a pained groan; too tired and miserable to care that he'd actually vocalized his discomfort. Besides, it was just Chaosia. She moved, the back of her hand settling against his cheek for a few moments before she repeated the action at his forehead; clucking her tongue as she shook her head.

"You're burning up, Albert. Have you taken anything for the fever?"

He shook his head, not even bothering to resist as she tugged him to rest against her; his head in her lap as her fingers brushed through his hair. Slowly her cool fingers combed through his locks, brushing over his temples and forehead as she sighed. He had no idea how long he stayed there, sprawled across his bed and wrapped around her like a child's toy and he honestly didn't care. Sitting still, slightly propped up made it easier to breathe . . . and her quiet humming and soft touches made him feel better even though he knew it was illogical. Simple touches and gestures couldn't really alleviate suffering from sickness-but somehow just having someone else there made it seem more bearable.

Eventually she moved, sliding out of the bed and towards his bathroom; the sound of the shower starting almost completely muted by the pressure behind his ear drums. He groaned, shifting to lay on his back. When he got over this-if he survived- he was going to kill William Birkin.

Slowly and painfully.

Chaosia stood beneath the spray of water, biting her lip as Albert rested almost solidly against her. She knew it was wrong to want to laugh-and honestly right now she was about to burst- but she couldn't help it. Albert Wesker always seemed so in control, so capable of handling anything that to see him like this was almost surreal. Not to mention fucking hilarious.

The man had stood up to bomb wielding maniacs and gun toting morons, had been through riots and hostage situations and citywide manhunts all without batting an eye. Never once looking the worse for wear. But let him catch the flu-really not even the flu, just more of a bad cold!- and he proved he was like every other man on the planet.

The world's biggest fucking baby when he didn't feel good.

He groaned, his forehead falling to her collarbone; allowing more of the scalding water to roll over her as she fought back a sigh. She moved, running her fingers through his hair; biting her lip as he grumbled against her skin. He shifted, nuzzling his nose and cheek against her neck; his lips brushing her skin as he groused. And if it weren't for how pitiful he was she would've laughed aloud at how despondent he sounded.

"I hate William. This is all his fault."

Chaosia closed her eyes, working to keep the humor from her voice as she responded; giving him the same answer she'd used hours before on the phone. He'd told her that Will and Sherry had both been sick when he'd gone to see them yesterday-though neither had apparently said anything until after he'd already been there for hours. And he was still resolute in blaming his friend for his incapacitation.

"Oh honey, it isn't like he meant to get you sick. Flus and viruses are extremely contagious-you know that."

Wesker snorted, the sound nowhere near as pronounced as it normally was as he wound his arms tighter around her waist; tugging her closer as he all but whined. She bit her lip hard enough to hurt, quelling the building laughter at his exasperated tone. He sounded less like a decorated Captain and doctor and more like a petulant nine year old, the slight nasal quality to his voice only adding to the effect.

"He did this on purpose. Fucking ass-"

Chaosia couldn't help it, she laughed; the sound echoing off of the walls as he turned enough to cut his eyes to her. Glaring as hard as he could. Though with how swollen his eyes and cheeks were he looked more like he was wincing, the firm set of his lips seeming more like a pout than the reprimanding expression she was used to. She shook her head, dipping to kiss his cheek apologetically; working to get herself under control.

She could laugh later . . . right now she needed to take care of him. Even if he wouldn't admit it.

"Oh c'mon honey. He didn't deliberately give you the flu. Stop being paranoid and relax; you'll feel better if you're not brooding."

He snorted, turning to burying his face in her neck again; leaning a little heavier against her as his lips brushed her damp skin.

"I am not brooding. I am contemplating my revenge."

She rolled her eyes, dipping to kiss his cheek as she chided him. He snorted again, his curses and groaning muffled as he buried his nose in her hair. Leaving her to realize that she was in for a long night-and possibly next day. Please let this virus pass quickly. Because she doubted her sanity and his ego could handle much more of this.

"Well contemplate vengeance when you feel better."

He nodded, looking to her expectantly; his expression so lost and hopeful that she knew she wouldn't be able to say no. Making her suddenly glad that Albert didn't get sick often . . . because she found she couldn't say no to the big, watery vulnerable blue eyes. God he wasn't ever supposed to look like this! It just wasn't right!

"Are you staying, dear heart? You don't have to-I would hate to think I infected you."

She nodded, brushing his wet hair from his eyes; giving him the warmest smile she could before she ran her nose down his cheek.

"I'll survive, Captain. I don't get sick often-not usually. And if I do I have sicktime banked so we're all good. Just do me a favor?"

He turned, reaching to shut of the water before eh stilled; nodding for her to continue.

"Anything."

"Next time, do not go visit William when he's sick."