Unexpected Touch

Chapter 4

Piers was sitting shirtless on one of the benches in the gym's locker room, a white towel hanging around his neck, as he absently checked his email.

Despite the earlier crowd in the gym, the locker room was practically empty. Most soldiers had either been at the gym solely to watch the two captains clash in the ring or, like the other three men on Alpha team, the soldiers chose to forgo any showers following their workouts in favor of returning to their quarters to clean up. Either way, Piers was grateful for the solitude.

Normally, Piers would also choose to clean up in his shower rather than use the locker room provided by the gym. While it was a nice facility, clean and spacious, Piers just preferred not being naked and vulnerable around strangers. However, his angry captain had disappeared into the locker room following an unpleasant phone call and had not yet emerged. Unwilling to just let the man be after the day's events, Piers had decided to stick around after the rest of the team left to make sure his captain was all right.

When Piers had followed his captain into the locker room a few minutes later - enough time to give their captain some space - the locker room had been empty. The only sound that alerted the sniper to the captain's location was the sound of a single shower running in the back. Unsure of how to proceed, Piers decided to wait until his captain emerged from the showers to check on him.

One minute turned to two, which turned to ten. And then fifteen. Not wanting to just the abandon the man, Piers reluctantly decided to head back to the showers himself, using the pretense of needing a shower for the light sweat he had worked up earlier as an excuse to intrude on the captain's privacy. Piers had grabbed a towel and slowly shed his tank top before second guessing the intelligence of his plan. He sunk to the bench and decided to give the captain another minute or two before going back and checking on what was in all likelihood a naked, showering, angry captain.

And that's how Piers came to find himself half-naked on the locker room bench, refreshing his email on his phone again and again, hoping for something - anything - to distract him from walking back to the showers.

Checking the time again, the sniper gave a nervous sigh. It had been 20 minutes since Piers had entered the locker room and twenty-five since his captain had first entered it. His captain was quick in everything he did and so this long shower was raising alarms in the sniper's mind.

Remembering the captain's winces earlier during his very brief attempt at weight training, the worry that had been nagging at the back of Piers' mind began to take front and center in his thoughts.

An image of a large, meaty fist making brutal contact with his captain's temple, sending blood and sweat flying through the air and spinning his captain around flashed before the sniper's eyes. Piers closed his eyes against the image and tried to calm his building anger.

He better be okay. If not, I'm going to murder Bohan, the sniper thought, a grim expression creeping over his face.

Standing, he quickly dropped and folded his sweat pants, placing them in an empty locker, along with his shirt, shoes, socks, and wallet. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he quietly walked to the back of the locker room where a wall separated the showers from the locker area. Pausing one last time and schooling his expression into calm detachment, Piers rounded the wall and stepped through the entrance to the shower area.

With a brief glance around, Piers took in the showers. The area was filled with chest-high walls separating each individual shower, giving some semblance of privacy. There had to be about fifteen different showers, all of which were vacant minus one in the farthest corner. Recognizing the profile of his captain through the warm mist swirling in the air, Piers began moving toward to an adjacent shower.

The sniper examined Alpha's captain closely as he made his leisurely way to the corner.

The man was leaning forward, both palms resting against the tile, as he allowed the water to fall over his head and showers, rolling down his back and body. The man's eyes were closed. His brows were furrowed. Taking in the bruises that were already forming across the man's body and face, it was easy for Piers to see why.

Pier's eyes examined the bruise on the man's left shoulder, remembering how a haymaker from Bohan had glanced off his captain's raised forearm before impacting on the man's shoulder.

Bohan must hit like a fucking hammer, Piers thought, to leave that much of a bruise. Piers vaguely recalled how the hit had sent his captain stumbling a step. Shaking his head, Piers stepped up to the vacant space immediately to the left of his captain's and turned on the shower.

From the corner of his eye, he could see his captain raise his head to regard his lieutenant. The older man quickly returned to allowing the water to cascade over him, though he had straightened up a bit, only one hand resting on the tile this time. Piers watched as discretely as he could as his captain quickly brought his left hand down from its place against the tile and used it to protectively cover a very large and very angry bruise over his ribs, hiding it from the sniper's prying eyes.

Piers let a few moments of silence go by, busying himself with washing his hair using the shampoo from the wall dispenser in front of him. He glanced from time to time at his captain, who had closed his eyes again and was relaxing under the water. Piers continued washing the sweat from his skin, hoping for some sort of acknowledgement from his captain. It didn't come. Piers ran out of patience. He had also run of reason to be in the shower now that he had fully finished washing.

Letting out a sigh, Piers steeled himself and turned to his captain.

"Captain."

He watched blue eyes open in slight surprise before the captain turned his head to him and waited for Piers to continue speaking.

"Are you okay?"

And that clearly had not been the right thing to ask. Piers saw his captain turn back to the shower, eyes closing again, eyebrows drawing down in mild irritation.

"I'm fine," a rough voice responded. Piers narrowed his eyes at the obvious lie.

"No, you aren't," he felt himself start to raise his voice minutely.

He wasn't prepared for the previously relaxed, silent captain to rear on him in an instant, eyes enraged and body rigid. "I just got the hell beaten out of me, Piers. You know that. You watched. I hurt like hell. And I'm in deep shit with command. But you know that too! So what exactly do you want me to say?" His captain nearly yelled his final question.

For the third time today, Piers was witnessing the legendary Redfield temper. However, this was the first time he had ever found himself the target of it. Still, he couldn't find himself afraid. Instead all he could do was watch in wide-eyed wonder, mouth slight agape, as his captain's angry eyes bore into his own. As his captain's slick, naked chest heaved with each furiously drawn breath.

Chris maintained intense eye contact with Piers for a few moments following his outburst as Piers struggled to get his brain to start working.

But as quickly as his anger came, it was gone. Piers heard his captain sigh as he broke that penetrating stare to return to his previous stance under the shower.

"Look, Piers. I'm sorry for that. I'm just tired right now. It's been a long day," the captain muttered, head hanging down, allowing water to run over his features.

Piers just silently watched his captain close his eyes again, not knowing what to say or do to make things better for the man.

"You don't have to be babysitting me, you know. I really am fine."

Blinking his hazel eyes, Piers' felt his brain finally catch up with the conversation. Wait, what?

"Babysitting you?" he asked quietly.

A short, unamused chuckle escaped from the older man. "Oh, come on. You're not actually here to shower. You'd probably rather french kiss a licker than use a public shower. I know you better than that."

Piers realized he must have made a face at the image his captain created because he heard the man give a sincere laugh.

"I'm not," Piers paused, "babysitting you. I just worry about you." The sniper hesitated as he tried to think of a way to phrase it so that he wouldn't offend his already irritable captain. "You don't always take care of yourself."

A cynical smile appeared on his captain's lips. "And so that's your job, is it? To take care of me?"

"Yes."

The captain's eyebrows raised again. Clearly he was not expected such a quick and resolute yes from the young man. But, to be fair, neither was Piers. It came out before he could stop it.

The sniper could see the captain's mind already twisting the meaning of the words that had been exchanged. Piers jumped to speak again to clear up any confusion.

"It's not my job as a BSAA soldier. It's not my job because I'm your lieutenant. It's my job because I care about you."

The captain remained silent, carefully watching the sniper.

"Captai-," Piers caught himself. He was going out on a limb here, but it was too late to back down now. He continued softly, in low sincere tones, "Chris. Please. Are you okay?" The last question was spoken slowly, emphasis on each word. Piers felt like he was practically begging the older man to let him in - to let Piers care for him.

He watched the captain glance past Piers toward the entrance to the shower area before returning his suddenly exhausted eyes to the sniper.

Responding in equally soft tones, "Yeah. I'm just tired. I fucking hate these dick measuring contests. Some dipshit has something to prove and I end up being the one walking away with the bruises."

The captain sighed again, turning back to the shower wall. "I think my age is catching up with me. Its been a while since I've hurt this badly after a sparring session. Granted Dave didn't exactly pull his punches, the fucker." A grunt. "I'm too old for this shit."

Piers smiled at the last part. Thirty-seven was hardly old.

Piers reached forward turning off his shower before leaning over the wall and turning off the captain's.

"Here. If you want, you can come back with me to the barracks. Maybe I can help you with your injuries."

He watched his captain gingerly grab a towel that was hanging off a hook next to the shower head.

"Not a lot you can do for bruises and pulled muscles, Piers."

"You'd be surprised," Piers replied, toweling himself off. "My brother used to be a marine. He sent me this medicated rub after I nearly died trying to keep pace with you during training when I was placed onto Alpha. Its the only reason I didn't keel over during my first month."

He smiled as he heard his captain chuckle.

"I remember that," he watched the captain shake his head, smiling at the memory. "I told you to go easy. Not to expect to match me and the others, but you wouldn't listen. You knew better. 'I was Special Forces. I know what I'm capable of.' Riiiight." The chuckle became a full-throated laugh as he mimicked the sniper. The sniper felt a warm rush in his stomach as he watched his captain light-heartedly tease him.

Piers couldn't help but chuckle, too. Yeah, he had had no clue what he was getting into when he joined Alpha Team. He really didn't think it would be as difficult as everyone had said. Boy, was he wrong. Piers shook his head ruefully. And man, did Alpha Team give him shit about it, too.

Piers followed his still-laughing captain out of the showers back into the main locker room, a large smile adorning his other serious features.


They were in their captain's BSAA humvee driving the short distance to the barracks in comfortable silence. Piers was happy for the quiet as he tried to quell all the images running rampant through his mind's eye. Images of his impressively muscled captain toweling off and getting dressed a mere few feet from him.

Piers had done his absolute best to keep his eyes averted and give his captain his privacy as he dressed, but his best hadn't been good enough. He kept finding his eyes drifting over to his captain's strong back, tracing every scar, and following every muscle as it moved and dipped beneath the lightly tanned skin.

His enjoyment of the show was cut off abruptly, though, when he began to notice the stiffening injuries his captain was sporting. One moment in particular had killed the faint arousal snaking through the sniper's belly. Piers was subtly eyeing the captain's chiseled abdominal muscles when a quiet yelp brought the sniper's attention to where the captain was favoring his left side. The man had been attempting to pull his t-shirt on over his head when the movement jostled his bruised ribs just a little too harshly.

Without thinking, Piers was at his captain's side, gently helping him pull his injured left arm through the sleeve and easing the shirt down his chest. Even as he was bringing the shirt down over perfect washboard abs, the sniper's thoughts were on knocking out the teeth of the man who had done this.

It was only when his finger tips grazed the older man's stomach that Piers realized what he was doing and stepped back, suddenly extremely aware of his proximity to his captain.

If his captain had been bothered by the stray touch, he didn't show it. Instead the man gave a small, grateful smile at the sniper's help and gingerly lifted his duffel bag.

"All right, you win. Maybe some magical muscle rub wouldn't be unwarranted."

And so here they were, in Chris' humvee, driving the short distance back to barracks. Piers tried to use the short drive to calm his thoughts. He didn't need to be letting his mind run away with him, especially not with the subject of his less-than-professional thoughts sitting right next to him.

They pulled up to the barracks that the members of Alpha Team shared with the other soldiers that hadn't yet found civilian accommodations elsewhere. It was a newer building, having only been built in the last couple years when the BSAA base had been established atop the derelict skeleton of the previous military base with the blessing of the local government. With shiny, polished hardwood floors and new, spotless IKEA furniture, the building felt more like a college dormitory than a barracks.

Once they stepped through the door to the building, Piers led his captain up a flight of stairs to the second story where his room was. Listening to the sounds of his captain's footsteps on the stairs, the sniper slowed his pace as he reached the landing. The older man's footfalls were landing far more heavily than Piers was used to. Slower. Unsteady. The man was definitely hurting.

Casting a glance at his captain, he saw the man give him a grateful smile as Piers began moving at a more sedate pace than before.

They exited the stairs and walked leisurely down the hallway, past rows of doors. Piers pulled his BSAA ID from his wallet and scanned it at his door's security scanner when he arrived at his room, opening the door when he heard the electronic lock retract. Turning, he held the door open for his captain to enter the small room.

He watched as his captain entered and took a quick look around. It wasn't much. Placed along the wall to the left, there was a loft bed (clearly unused) with a desk situated underneath it. A door that shared the wall that lead to a bathroom complete with shower. There was a window across from the door they had just entered through, with a second desk underneath it. A second bed was placed along the wall to the right of the door, and another closet.

It was empty of most personal possessions other than a single picture frame on the desk under the window and Piers' laptop sitting on the second bed.

Piers didn't realize he was holding his breath in his nervousness until he heard the older man ask, "You have a roommate?"

The sniper took a much-needed breath. "No. It's just me. Here, sit down." He gestured to his bed, walking to his closet and throwing open the doors. He heard the bed creak as the large man sat down on it. He refused to let himself consider the noises the bed would make during other types of activities involving the captain. Instead he concentrated on opening the trunk he had stored in the closet and rifling through the various items he kept there.

It only took a few moments since Piers didn't keep many things. He grabbed a small cylindrical container from the trunk. Closing the closet, he turned to his captain. Piers hesitated as his captain looked up from gazing at the family photo on Piers' desk to regard the sniper.

Piers wasn't entirely sure how to go about this. Should he just offer the small container to the captain to take back to his own room? Should he offer to apply it to his captain himself? Recalling the man's failed efforts put his shirt on earlier, he knew his captain was probably too sore to be able to adequately apply it to all of his injuries on his own. But he knew he also had to maintain some sort of semblance of professionalism. And he was pretty certain that offering to rub ointment all over his captain's naked body might be pushing it just a little.

Piers swallowed at the image, pushing it away.

Not to mention his captain's obvious distaste for physical contact, Piers recalled.

"...You still with me there, soldier?"

Piers' attention snapped back from his thoughts to his captain. He looked from the small tub in his hands to the older man sitting on his bed, looking at him with amused blue eyes, head tilted in mock concern. He felt a blush rising to his cheeks when he saw the teasing smile on his captain's face.

Deciding the safest route was just to ask the man how he wanted to proceed, Piers held the tub out to his captain. "Here you go, Captain. Are you going to need help putting it on?"

Testing his shoulder with a roll and grunting at the soreness he found, the captain sighed.

"Yeah..." his captain pouted.

Piers tried and failed to suppress a laugh at the adorable, sad pout on the man's face.

"Don't worry, Captain. I've got you. You'll be good as new in no time," the sniper smiled at the older man, unscrewing the lid to the small container.


As always, let me know what you think. It would be really nice to get some feedback.

And, as always, thank you for reading!