This story is a homage to Twisted Redfield Sisters's "Family Portrait".

It's embued in that story's first chapters vibes and ambience. I loved it so much and dived into it so deep that this short story bloomed in my head naturally. Family Portrait has moved on to greater adventures, but I wanted to cradle myself a little more in the Raccoon City it summoned in my mind, and take a chance to write something I never tried before.

Please do not expect hurt\comfort dynamics. This is no "One Month In Your Shoes". This is horror.

BAD ROMANCE

Part 1 – Claire

Claire parked her bike opposite the tall wrought-iron spikey fence that encircled the Police Station.

Raccoon City was particularly sombre that night as a dense cumulus of heavy clouds obscured the night sky and concealed Moon and stars. Only streetlights managed to pierce exceptional round holes of pale clarity. But even streetlamps, with their bent tops, seemed to stoop down to the intense humidity that impregnated the air like an invisible fog. Likewise, the black shadows they casted on the damp asphalt seemed to become almost tangible.

Claire took her shiny helmet off and paced resolute and serene towards the wide iron gate, her slender frame preceded by the squelch of her biker boots splashing in the puddles.

Had she suspected the gloomy quietude was a creepy presage of what the night had in store for her, maybe she'd never crossed the RPD main entrance and she and her expectations would've safely riden home.

It was late, the City was sleeping so tight that even the young rookie behind the front desk had been infected by the common sloth and snored quietly, dangling on a chair with his feet crossed upon the desktop.

Claire barely acknowledged his presence. She couldn't care less about that rookie. She was looking for a way more tempered cop. A real man. Not a little kid fresh from the police Academy who got intruders to sneak in right below his dormant nose! Not that Claire could be considered an intruder, though. Even if the rookie was as vigilant as they paid him for, it'd have taken just one phone call to the right office on the second floor to grant her a permit and get him a harsh reproach.

RPD was her second home, at least since literally all the rest of her family worked in there. During daytime, it wasn't that rare to meet her rumbling about the main hall's statue. Everyone knew her as the big guy's sister. Everyone called her Miss Redfield, while only a few had enough familiarity to call her by her name, like Barry or Jill.

But lately, she'd got one more reason to spend even the latest nightly hours in there. A reason she both despised and cherished. Since it had fucked up her normal teenage routine and, at the same time, it had given her some of the most transgressive moments of her life - sex on that big desk in the small office was so indecently sensual!

Notwithstanding Raccoon City appeared calm and peaceful, as to brag about how much of a good place to live in it was, he had been working a lot more lately. Some low-class, insignificant bunch of criminal scumbags were attempting to set up a city-wide drug racket, thus it forced him to take way too many extra shifts to complete the complex remand procedures required by the rise of busts they had to carry out. Being chained to his desk to take care of such low-level shit was absolutely ridiculous for a cop of his skills and experience. His place was out there on the field. He was a man of action, not a pencil pusher. Filling forms wasn't what he had signed for. Nevertheless, his office had now become his second home too. Some more days and he'd start saying he lived in the police station. Some of his team already thought so.

With him on her mind, dying in anticipation for the fulfilling wholesomeness his company would soon give her, Claire confidently crossed the labyrinth of hollow corridors and steep staircases, eager to reach her desired destination. Her new second home.

Thus she flew light as a dove, her tousled ponytail bounced at every step that brought her higher and swayed at every turn in the path.

Finally, the S.T.A.R.S. office door.

Before opening the well known wooden panel, she placed down the small but heavy paper bag she carried and adjusted her ponytail, neatly combing all those untamed auburn little strands back into place.

She wanted to look perfect for him.

The man.

Claire pushed the door and with much of her surprise she noticed that the screeching of the rusted hinges that always gave her creeps even in the brightest of days, had lastly gone. Someone had finally oiled that stupid door!

She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. The sight of him sitting by his desk ripped a delicate smile out of her lips. His back was so curved as he sat nose-deep in some boring files he had to fill and store in the archive. The chaotic mess of papers his desk was, suggested her that he had a hell of a backlog. She glanced at both of the offices in that room and every other desk was just clean and put together. That lone island of tiring confusion pertained only him.

Somehow the outside dense darkness had filtered up there, as the room was immersed in a grey dim-light. But she was luminous and young and naïve. Every step she took on the blueish tiles brought a ray of light to dawn into the S.T.A.R.S. headquarters.

She was just a couple of steps away from him when he suddenly shifted on his chair to stretch his sore back and eventually saw her.

Bright, glimmering, lively blue eyes clutched to dark-circled, tenebrous ones.

Her smile met his smirk.

With an impressive velocity, he stood up and closed the distance that still kept him far from his home. He pinched her chin with two fingers and stroked her jawline up to her ear, tucking a rebel strand behind it. In spite of the long walk, her round cheeks were still cool and a wet for the sticky mist, revealing him how the weather was like outside. She ought to have stayed in her warm bed. He had told her she didn't have to show up every time he was forced to remain in his office as they had plenty of time to meet in better, cosiest places, but how could he convincingly tell her so when he'd missed her smile so bad?

Her grin washed away a whole day of tedious paperwork. Her youthful voice erased the pains of a lengthy shift.

"Time for a break?" she asked. "I got us some beers and Chinese."

Taking her head in his hands, he bowed and kissed her.

She already knew he had been longing for her the whole day, but yet she gasped in surprise and amusement when he harshly drew her closer and, letting go of her face, he squeezed her butt in his virile hands, pushing her against his groin.

He had been starving the whole day.

He kept eating her lips insatiably and noisily crooned his arousal against her mouth. Only after having bathed her giggling face in a rain of tiny kisses, he finally spoke.

"How could I ever refuse a beer with my baby sister?"

To be continued...