"Piers, come here!" Chris stammered loudly, sitting on a hard barstool.

"Captain, I'm sitting right next to you," Piers replied, sighing at Chris's 5th attempt at drawing the boy closer. Piers almost found it funny at this point, but his composure remained professional.

"Good," Chris replied, handing his empty glass to his partner. "There's a problem here." Piers took the glass, keeping his eyes on the Captain.

"I'm sorry, Chris, but I'm not buying you another drink," Piers sighed, seeing Chris's angry gaze fall over him. "Didn't we agree that you'd stop drinking yourself into a stupor?" Chris hiccupped angrily.

"Look, Piers. I'm fine. I'm still me, okay? Look, I'm not drunk," The Captain replied. He stood from the stool for the first time in 8 drinks, and stumbled towards the younger man. Piers put out a hand and held him up.

"Yeah, you've had enough," Piers sighed, slinging Chris's arm over his shoulder. "Come on, Captain."

"I give the orders here, Piers, not you." Chris argued, but let himself be dragged by his partner nevertheless.

The pair arrived back at the musty little hotel room that they decided to stay at until the next week arrived, when they would depart back to Europe for another round of shooting and killing. Piers opened the creaky little door to Chris's room and dragged him inside, setting the drunken man down on the hard bed.

"There you go, Captain," Piers sighed, fixing his shirt. "Back safe in a bed. See you in the morning, I guess." He turned to exit the room when Chris spoke.

"You know, Piers, you look cute in plaid, you should wear that shirt more often," He smiled, his glazed eyes catching the gaze of the younger. "Like, all the time."

Piers blushed.

"Captain, you're drunk," He sighed. "Good night." He reached for the knob, but a hand pulled him back.

"I don't give a shit, come on, relax," Chris replied, pulling Piers back with enough force that he slumped onto the bed beside him. "You're always so up-tight. Maybe you should get drunk." Chris reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a familiar bottle.

"Chris, did you steal that from the bar?" Piers scolded.

"What? They weren't using it," He scoffed, pulling the cork off of the half-empty vodka bottle. "Here." He lifted the bottle up to his partner. Piers eyed it, and Chris pushed it towards him. The younger sighed.

"Chris-" Piers was cut short by the bottle being dropped into his hands, almost forcing it to fall onto the cheaply carpeted floor.

"Drink; that's an order." Chris smiled.

"You don't even know what you're talking about," Chris laughed. "Sushi has got to be the worst invention in history."

"That's not true! It's actually really tasty. Have you even ever even tried it?" Piers laughed.

"Yes, and it was disgusting. It was like eating a raw squid."

"That's because sushi is raw squid."

"And that is why it's disgusting. Humans are animals. We eat raw squid and think it's a delicacy." Chris made a sour face and chuckled, taking his heavy jacket off.

Piers blushed again, but it was nearly unnoticeable over the color that the vodka had brought to his face. He was subliminally glad for this; he wasn't sure if Chris would ask him what was wrong if his face flushed. Truth was, the younger found his Captain...attractive.

Or maybe it was just the vodka.

Yeah. Definitely the vodka.

"Help me get my boots off." Chris ordered, pulling at his still-tied boots. Piers slid off the edge of the bed and sat on the floor, knowing he'd fail if he'd tried to stand. He chuckled, and pulled the shoelace, untying the boot. Chris scoffed again, untied the other boot and took it off. Piers sat with his legs crossed on the floor, looking up at Chris with soft eyes. The Captain threw his boot at him.

Piers sighed, his arms outstretched, as he lay on the floor. He listened to Chris's laughter in the background as the TV blasted some sort of cheesy action movie. He turned his head to the side and stared at Chris's blurry face. He smiled again at the Captain's laughter.

"Do you see this, Piers? The guy punched that guy and he exploded. That is such terrible movie graphics. You'd like this, why aren't you watching it?" Chris asked, bottle in one hand and eyes glued to the screen. Piers beamed at the offer and crawled over, pulling himself up onto the bed beside Chris. Chris's booming laugh echoed again, as a man on the screen burst into flames from the main character's cigarette being thrown at his gasoline-drenched feet. Piers smiled, and laughed along with Chris.

"See? Isn't that just the worst shit you've ever seen?" Chris inquired, putting a hand on Piers' back and handing the bottle to him. Piers smiled and nodded, sipping at the bottle. Chris picked up the remote and turned the channel to the news, and then to a baseball game, and then to a cartoon channel, and then….he turned it off and sighed. "Nothing good on. Wanna go to the bar?"

"No thanks, Captain. We just came from the bar, remember? You stole this," He shook the almost empty bottle at Chris, who flashed a crooked, cocky smile. "Maybe we should find something else to do that won't get us in trouble."

"Like what?" Chris asked, stretching his arms behind his back. Piers blushed again, seeing Chris's muscles shiver as they stretched.

"We don't have much cash left. Wanna just go for a walk?" Piers asked, immediately regretting the idea.

"At 4:30 in the morning? I don't think so," Chris sneered. "Whatever. Let's go raid the vending machine."

The pathetic little laundry room seemed so empty, especially with Chris's hulking form fighting for a bag of chips in the vending machine.

"Come on, God damn it!" Chris yelled, angrily bashing his fist onto the side of the machine. "I swear, that's my fifth quarter it ate."

"Captain, it's supposed to be a dollar fifty," Piers mentioned, stepping up and putting a last quarter into the machine. A bag dropped down into the compartment and he picked it up. He turned and smiled at Chris, who proceeded to snatch the bag in frustration. Piers' face sank as Chris turned.

"Thank you, Piers." Chris said, looking back for a moment to smile. Piers gleamed.

"Sure thing, Captain." He replied, following the taller man back up to the room.

Sitting back on the bed, Chris munched happily on the contents on the overly priced bag of air.

"Uck," He scoffed. "And all these years, I thought air was free. And now it's a dollar fifty in a piece of shit vending machine."

"Well maybe next time you should wait until the breakfast room is open." Piers retorted.

"Yeah right, and pay a dollar fifty for a piece of cardboard you can spread cream cheese on? I think I'll pass," He crumpled the bag and tossed it at the TV screen. "Besides, I can live solely on liquid in a bottle," The Captain picked up the vodka bottle and sneered at it. It was very clearly empty. "Did you finish this?"

"No, Captain," Piers replied, truthfully trying to remember if he had. "I swear it was full when we went downstairs." He looked down where the bottle had been and stared at the dark spot staining the carpet.

"Well, shit," Chris cursed, throwing the bottle down next to the empty chip bag. "Got any cash?" He asked, looking at the younger with glossy eyes. The color that the alcohol brought to Piers' face had faded, and it was replaced with the color of blood rushing to his cheeks.

"No." He said, with an unintentional vibrato.

"What?" Chris asked, leaning forward.

"Nothing," Piers replied, his face flushing again. "Maybe we should just go to bed."

"What the hell are you looking at?" The Captain interrogated. His tone was almost teasing.

"Nothing, Chris, damn it! Why do you always think something's wrong?" Piers tried to look away, but a familiar hand grabbed his chin, forcing his blushing face to look into the eyes of the other.

"Because I know when something's wrong. You're looking at me like I'm candy," Chris stared for a moment, examining the color of the younger's cheeks. Piers blinked. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"No."

"It's an order." Chris spoke sternly.

"Outside of the battlefield, you're not the boss of me," Piers thought about pulling away from Chris's grasp, but he couldn't help but admire the warmth of his palm. "Get off my back."

"You're getting to be stubborn like me," Chris chuckled, letting go of the younger. Piers hid his disappointment, but apparently not well enough. Chris cracked a crooked smile and replaced his hand on Pier's chin, this time softly. "We've been partners for close to 4 months, I know you by now."

"No you don't," Piers snapped, embarrassed. "You don't know me."

"Yeah, I do." The Captain laughed teasingly. Piers blushed deeper.

"Just 'cause you're my Captain doesn't mean you know me." Piers argued.

"Oh, now I'm your Captain? You being possessive, Piers?" Chris smirked, leaning forward.

"Please stop." Piers begged, secretly hoping he wouldn't.

"Keep begging," Chris smiled, inching closer to his partner's face. "It makes you all fidgety. It's cute."

"No…" Piers stuttered, at a loss for words at the comment and the closeness of the man before him.

"Yes." Chris's smile became more sinister. He quite enjoyed teasing the younger man.

"No." He tried to keep his face as solid as possible, but it was doing nothing of the sort. In fact, it was utterly melting off with nervousness.

"Piers." Chris chuckled, his own face now mere centimeters away from his partner's.

"No, Captain." Piers argued, but didn't move.

"Call me your captain again," Chris said solidly. Piers froze under the stare. "Please?" The younger blinked.

"… My Captain." Piers muttered, not sure what to do in the situation.

"Say it again." The Captain smiled, looking down at Piers' parted lips.

"… You're my Captain." He whispered, his gaze locked on Chris's wandering eyes.

"Yeah, I am," Chris whispered softly. "And you're my lieutenant, aren't you, Piers?"

Piers could feel Chris's stubble brushing against his lips. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Yeah." He muttered.

"Yeah…" Chris repeated. He let out a warm breath that caressed Piers' lips and caused the younger to shiver. Piers wanted so badly for Chris to stop teasing him, and to just kiss him already. He would be fine if that was all that happened, if all of this was forgotten when they woke up and went to the bar and did it all again. He didn't care, as long as he could kiss the lips that were close enough to taste, even if that taste was vodka and potato chips.

"Captain," He stuttered, his lips barely brushing Chris's at the word. "…You're drunk."

"Shut up, Piers," Chris scolded, and yet his voice was still so teasingly soft. The lieutenant shivered at the way Chris said his name. "You're drunk, too." Piers groaned softly, more annoyed at his own uncanny ability to ruin the moment than the burning in his face. But yet Chris was still barely touching his lips with his own. Piers felt a warmth brush across his bottom lip, and only seconds after realizing that the warmth was Chris's tongue, the Captain's lips connected. Piers immediately closed his eyes, taking in the feeling, hoping that his drunkenness wouldn't let him forget this moment. The taste of the older man's breath tickled his tongue. Chris's lips moved slightly, and Piers wondered if he was testing him. Maybe the Captain was waiting for him to move. He parted his lips and pursed them, lightly trapping Chris's bottom lip between them. He was sure he felt Chris smile before both pairs of lips parted again, and the younger felt a burn on his mouth, which he realized was a bite. Piers ran his tongue against the teeth, silently begging them to let go. They did, and they were replaced with a soothing tongue tied into his own. He felt Chris's firm hands on his shoulders, holding them tightly like he was a prisoner. He felt small compared to his partner. The tight grip loosened, and Piers felt his plaid overshirt being slid from his shoulders. He didn't question why; the thing felt heavy in the moment anyway. His grey wifebeater felt much more appropriate. Chris's lips let go, and Piers opened his eyes for a moment to witness his Captain removing the tight black tee he was wearing. The motion made the dog tags hanging around his neck jingle. Piers smiled at the dinged pieces of metal that had the name "Redfield" printed on them. Beneath the black shirt, Chris also was wearing a wifebeater, though his was white and made his muscles look like they were gasping for air. Piers wondered how Chris could even wear clothes being the size he is. Chris eyed him softly for a moment, and took him into his arms, kissing him again. This time, Piers almost felt crushed under the pressure of Chris's biceps, but he didn't care. He was in his Captain's arms, embraced and twisted in a kiss.

With his eyes closed again, Piers took in the musky scent of the man embracing him. Disregarding the smell of alcohol and salt, he smelled like a man. Like wood and grass and sweat. Piers enjoyed it for some strange reason; probably just because it was the scent of Chris Redfield. He wasn't even focused on kissing him, he was just focused on taking in the moment, and possibly wishing it was more… possibly wishing too soon.

The lieutenant felt the massive hands wander down his back, the fingers slipping just under the rim of his tanktop. The fabric lifted, and the clinging of dog tags was heard again, this time coming from his pair. He felt as if Chris was looking at them in the same way that he had, seeing the letters that spelled "Nivans" and grinning that hidden-teeth smile. Piers mimicked his Captain, opening his eyes and immediately reaching for the straining cotton that separated Chris's bare chest from the world. He pulled it up and over Chris's arms, being sure to feel the sculpted back muscles in between. He wasn't yet sure if Captain Redfield was doing this for his own personal gain or not, but the younger man didn't care. He was here, in the moment, and he wasn't about to let his wandering mind ruin that for him, whether he forgot all about this the next morning or not. Piers was being kissed again, and the massive hands caressed him, one resting on the nape of his neck and one on the small of his back. He was so comfortable here, in the arms of his Captain.

The younger was suddenly surprised as he was lifted, opening his eyes in time to see Chris beneath him. He sat straddled on him, and blushed at how vulnerable he felt. Chris smirked and grabbed Piers' tags, pulling the chain forward, and it's wearer along with it. The pairs of lips connected again, this time more forcefully than before. Piers immediately knew the Captain's intention; he could feel it beneath him. It was hard and muscular, just like the arms that held him. His face grew hot. Chris's teeth bit and his tongue soothed, and Piers could feel himself giving in to the heat. His fingers slid beneath Chris's belt, holding it on both sides of the hips, like a pair of reigns. He felt Chris's teeth clench as he moved his hips teasingly.

"My Captain…" Piers breathed, eyes still closed, lips still brushing lips. Chris grabbed the younger's hips on both sides and clenched, almost hurting the smaller man.

"That's right," Chris growled, his pants constricting his excitement. "Your Captain." Chris breathed heavily between kisses and slid his hands into his partner's pants, gripping at his backside and moving his hips faster. In a single sweep, the powerful man flipped the younger over onto his back and began unclasping the belt. Piers didn't fight it. He was exposed now. He sat back and breathed heavily, watching Chris fight to get undressed quickly. Once he was, Piers took a moment to admire the sleek, muscular figure of the man before him. Chris stood still and let this happen, even though he was throbbing to attack the vulnerable and naked lieutenant. Piers tensed as Chris's warm, eager hands slipped around him again, lifting him and flipping him back onto his stomach.

The younger didn't even have time to wonder what Chris's next move would be. The eager hands pulled his backside up, so he was on his hands and knees. The blood had just enough time to rush to his face before the strong hands moved elsewhere. Piers inhaled audibly as Chris gripped tightly around his member.

"Look at you," Chris whispered, still breathing excitedly and still throbbing. "You're so cute," He gripped tighter and jerked. Piers moaned in a mix of pleasure and pain. "You're adorable, Lieutenant." The Captain growled sadistically and made Piers moan. He breathed with anticipation. The younger man was becoming terribly erect in his hands. The Captain smiled, and licked his fingers.

"Captain…unh..!" Piers collapsed onto his forearms as the hands moved again, this time playing at his tender entrance. The fingers were warm and wet, and they moved expertly, making room for what was to come.

The boy was a wet heap, bent over the bed and being played with like a puppet. He tried his best not to moan, not to make himself even more pathetic in the eyes of his Captain, but he couldn't help it. It was like Chris was forcing him to feel all of the embarrassing pleasure. Piers was far from homosexual, in fact, he'd been with many women in his 26 years, but there was just something about Chris Redfield. He looked up to him, and admired him. He liked the way he called him Lieutenant.

The fingers pulled out quickly, forcing Piers' already pulsing erection to throb. He tried to look back at Chris, but a firm hand turned his head back, pushing it down into the pillow. He thought he heard Chris chuckle, or at least breathe through a smile, but he didn't have time to even think about questioning it before he was entered hard, and without the least bit of warning.

Piers screamed. Though it was muffled by the pillow, it was loud and filled with the sound of pain and overwhelming pleasure. Chris was huge, and that didn't just mean his hulking muscles. It was painful, especially for someone as inexperienced in receiving as Piers. He gritted his teeth between moans. Chris rested a hand on Piers' head, gripping the short, sand-colored hair between his fingers as he thrusted. The Captain's usually solid face turned hot, and he felt his excitement welling up inside Piers. He breathed through his clenched teeth, his eyes moving up and down the younger's slender figure. He loved the way the lieutenant's muscles looked while he was hunched over and tensed. The beads of sweat lining Piers' spine excited him further. Feeling another tug on his hair, Piers could hardly contain himself anymore. He lifted his face from the pillow and moaned again, not realizing how loud his voice echoed when not muffled by the musty cotton. He gritted his teeth and blushed, unleashing a last moan as he felt himself let off. Chris thrusted a last time, groaning in pleasure and letting his excitement pool inside the younger.

The Captain collapsed, knocking Piers down onto the bed alongside him. Neither of the men was sure about what had happened just then, but neither cared. It had happened, and that was it. Piers lay on his stomach; the warm, wet spot on the bed not fazing him. He just struggled to catch his expended breath. Chris lay on his back, arms outstretched. One arm was rested on Piers' back, soaking in the sweat. He too took a moment to gather his oxygen.

"Piers," He said, turning his head to look his lieutenant. "We don't speak of this, right?" Piers hesitated.

"Yes, Captain." He replied, disappointed. Though he knew that those words would come from Chris's mouth, they still hurt him to hear. The boy quite liked the idea of his Captain having a secret relationship with him.

"Good," Chris said, shifting closer to Piers. "Now go to sleep." He slid an arm under the younger and held him lightly.

Piers smiled, and replied, "Yes, Captain." Chris kissed the top of his head. When he was sure his Captain was asleep and breathing nicely, Piers lifted his head and placed a soft kiss on Chris's lips, sliding a blanket over their bodies and curling into the Captain's strong embrace.

"Good night, Chris." Piers whispered, closing his eyes and drifting to sleep in the soft light of the sunrise.